White Magic
by Dragon Silhouette
Summary: Toushirou Hitsugaya is sent to Europe to counter Aizen's magical Arrancars, but all is not well within Hogwarts. . . [The silver knife sticking out of his neck taunted him, filling him with a sense of dread and foreboding. "It was supposed to be me . . ."]
1. Magic and the Hougyoku

**NOTE: This takes place during Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and right before the Arrancar arc.  
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**Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.  
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* * *

**Chapter 1: Magic and the Hougyoku**

* * *

Toushirou Hitsugaya sipped his tea, working on his last batch of paperwork for the day. It had been stressful as of late, with stacks of documents arriving in each of the Captains' office every day. His Lieutenant had been of no help, preferring to skip out of the office to drink with her buddies. He gave up trying to make her do paperwork – it just resulted in Matsumoto somehow giving him _more_ paperwork than he had before.

He scanned another piece of document. The Arrancar had been lying low, not having made an appearance in almost a month. A few days ago, there was a slight influx of Hollows in Scotland – particularly in small towns – but that was it. It was easily taken care of with a squad led by his Seventh-Seat.

Toushirou's brow furrowed. One of the Shinigami temporarily stationed in Surrey, England reported an unidentified creature capable of consuming a person's soul. A human boy holding a _stick_ somehow managed to drive it away. Apparently, there was an unpleasant sensation of depression and despair once the Shinigami had gotten twenty feet of it. The Captain-Commander should be notified of this. Since the countries under the Tenth Division's jurisdiction are all European, this concerns him greatly. An imbalance of souls would cause a lot of trouble – not to mention the _paperwork._ He mentally shuddered. Contrary to popular belief, he did _not_ like paperwork. The reason he did so much was because Matsumoto just couldn't be bothered by it.

He jotted down a few notes about the situation in England on a separate piece of paper and ordered the Shinigami to stay for a couple more months. Any sightings of this peculiar being was to be disposed of immediately.

A Hell Butterfly flew through the open door, its black-and-maroon wings gently fanning the wind. He held out a finger as it landed and listened to the message.

"_Captain Hitsugaya of the Tenth Division is to go to Captain-Commander Yamamoto's office as soon as possible. Thank you."_

He frowned. A summons to Yamamoto's office without three days' notice? His thoughts immediately went to Matsumoto. Maybe she set his beard on fire again. . . He winced. He didn't want to remember that particular incident. He had never seen Madarame, Abarai, and Matsumoto so red before – both from laughing and from the burns they received as punishment. Of course, Kuchiki was there too. He looked like he was about to execute Abarai right then and there.

He stood up from his (very) comfortable chair and grabbed his Zanpakutou. Slinging it over his shoulder, he made his way to the First Division using Flash Steps. The even-numbered Divisions populated by black-clothed Shinigami passed by in a blur. A select few managed to see a vague, humanoid impression of grey jumping over the rooftops and waved.

Arriving at the big double doors of the First Division, he patiently waited for one of the Seated officers to fetch Lieutenant Sasakibe. His eyes wandered around the corridor and landed on an English-style vase with purple chrysanthemums perched on a platform. He hated it. It was taller than him by a few _inches._

"Captain Hitsugaya." Lieutenant Sasakibe appeared and gestured for him to follow. He led the way through the halls and stopped in front of yet _another_ set of big double doors.

He momentarily played with the thought of kicking Yamamoto's ass if this was his way of teasing him.

Toushirou entered the spacious office and spotted the Captain-Commander sitting behind his desk. Captain Soifon and Captain Kurotsuchi were also present, the latter grinning at him maliciously while the former was staring at the mad scientist suspiciously. Kurotsuchi gripped a high-tech phone in his hand.

He approached the desk and bowed. The old man's head was down, possibly dozing off again. "Captain-Commander Yamamoto."

The old man looked up and nodded, his eyes still closed. He wondered if Yamamoto developed the ability to work _and_ sleep at the same time. "Thank you for arriving on such short notice. Now we may begin."

Toushirou sent a quick glare at Kurotsuchi before sitting down on one of the provided chairs. To his annoyance, his feet couldn't touch the ground. He thought of scooting closer to the edge, but decided against it. The chair was pretty damn high, and his feet were still going to hang off the chair. Might as well be comfortable.

Kurotsuchi, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his clown-like visage, pressed a few buttons on his device and a screen projected from the phone.

Toushirou froze.

There he was, in the middle of a moonlit glade surrounded by three Arrancars. Sousuke Aizen. Former Captain of the Fifth Division. The traitor who defected from Soul Society and stabbed Hinamori into a coma.

"Watch closely," Yamamoto murmured. "The Third-Seat of the Second Division lost her life obtaining this video."

Aizen was facing a bizarre man that looked like he had a _really_ bad nose job. It was as if his face was pressed into one of those high-speed treadmills from the Living World. He had neither hair nor lips, and his ears stuck out in a way that might have looked elfish. He wore an elegant black robe that seemed to suck the light out of everything around him.

"Lord Aizen," said the man.

"Lord Voldemort," Aizen replied. Toushirou could see the faint smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. Arrogant bastard.

"Did you bring it?" Voldemort asked.

Aizen reached into his white robes and pulled out a small, bluish-purple sphere that pulsed inside its clear shield. The air around the orb shimmered. Toushirou caught his breath. "The Hougyoku." He smiled. "But first. Your side of the deal."

Voldemort took out a pale stick with a black handle and passed it to Aizen, who gazed at it with interest. "Lord Voldemort has it. Yew, fourteen inches, dragon heartstring from a Hungarian Horntail." He took out his own white wand and pointed at a large boulder. "_Wingardium Leviosa._" The boulder shot fifteen feet into the air, before stabilizing and dropping back down to the ground. "One of the simplest of Charms."

"_Wingardium Leviosa,_" Aizen said softly, pointing at the boulder with the stick. It lifted a few feet off the ground before gravity kicked in. "Fascinating," he commented. "But useless."

"There are many more useful spells to learn," Voldemort spat. "The Dark Arts is what you are looking for. . ."

"The Dark Arts. . ." Aizen said quietly. "Show me a demonstration."

Voldemort's non-existent lips thinned while his red eyes narrowed dangerously. He pointed his stick – wand – at one of the Arrancars and said, "_Avada Kedavra._"

The Arrancar – stocky, with a frog-like mask covering the upper portion of his face – was sent reeling when the green flash hit him in the chest. The Arrancar briefly shook himself and went back to stand behind Aizen.

Voldemort stepped back. "Tha. . . That was the Killing Curse. It should have killed that thing."

Aizen shook his head in amusement. "Interesting. . . Your so-called Killing Curse cannot kill a creature that is _already dead._" His eyes darkened, and a flash of the dangerous traitor he was momentarily made an appearance. Voldemort took another step back. "What use is that to me? The people who stand against me are all dead."

He snarled and pointed his wand at the stocky Arrancar once again. "_Crucio!_"

This time, when red light lit the tip of Voldemort's wand, the Arrancar doubled over and screamed in agony. He dropped to the ground and squirmed, his unusually-high voice adding to the effect.

Aizen hummed thoughtfully.

"Extreme pain," Voldemort boasted. "It is the perfect curse for torturing."

"Teach me," Aizen said in his fake-kind voice, "and my Arrancars. In exchange. . ." He lifted the Hougyoku. "I will let you use this."

Voldemort's fingers twitched, obviously impatient. A second passed, and he said, "I do not know if magic works for Arrancars."

Aizen reached into his robes and pulled out another wand. Holding it near the Hougyoku, the stick twisted and morphed until it turned black. He passed it to one of the Arrancars – a slender woman with long red hair and a mask covering her right cheek.

The Arrancar waved the wand – swish and flick – and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa._" The pebble she pointed at floated a few inches above the ground before dropping back down.

"Arrancars can use magic," Aizen said smugly. "Who knew?"

"Fine," Voldemort snapped. "I shall teach them also. But your. . . Hougyoku – show me its purpose."

Aizen chuckled. "Its purpose, Lord Voldemort, is 'desire materialization.' I wanted that normal piece of stick to become a wand for Arrancars, and it complied. It is an intriguing ability, don't you think?" He pocketed the Hougyoku. "Mastery in magic, in return for materializing your desire. It is a good bargain." He lowered his voice. The video started shaking. "Do not attempt to swindle me, Lord Voldemort. Stay true to our negotiation, and you might earn yourself a place in the new world I will create." Without waiting for an answer, Aizen opened a Garganta and disappeared back to Hueco Mundo.

Voldemort stood there, staring at the rip in the dimensional fabric. Then he turned on the spot and disappeared with a small _pop!_

The now-shaky Third-Seat stood up silently and Flash Stepped away from the glade as quickly as possible.

"Captain Soifon," she whispered, "the Arrancars are –"

"Well, well, what have we got here? A little eavesdropper, hm?"

The Third-Seat dropped her phone. A flash of red hair. Tensing, Toushirou saw bits of the fight going on between the two women before the Third-Seat scooped up the phone and pressed a button. The screen turned black.

Toushirou sat in his seat, replaying the video in his mind. _Aizen. . . Arrancars. . . Magic. . ._

"As you can see," Yamamoto said, leaning forward, "Aizen has found a way to incorporate magic into the Arrancars' arsenal of abilities. Aizen is still, technically, a Shinigami. If he can use magic. . ." He paused. "Then so can we." He nodded at Kurotsuchi.

The scientist cleared his throat. "From what I gathered in my research, it seems magic is nothing more than manipulating one's spiritual power and the spiritual particles around him and focusing it on a conductor – the wand. The wand influences the spiritual power, morphing it according to the wielder's will and shooting the resulting magic out the tip. It is quite similar to what the Quincies do with their bows." He leaned back, satisfied with sharing his discovery. "It is basically Kidou, but with a wider variety of spells and uses."

Toushirou was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of magic.

Kurotsuchi continued, "I tried making wands of our own, but we needed a 'magical' core inside the wood to effectively operate with the condensed spiritual power. I sent one of my officers to get me a sample, and he came up with something called Kelpie hair from England. I infused it inside a length of Oak wood. Further tests on the 'wand' indicated that it radiated a very, very small amount of spiritual pressure, similar to a sentient being."

"Hold on," Toushirou interrupted. He had just gotten over the fact that magic exists, and that it had been right under his nose the entire time. And now this _scientist _is telling him that a piece of _stick_ with a hair from some obscure creature is _alive_. "Explain."

"Well," Kurotsuchi said, enjoying himself, "the wand like a less-powerful version of our Zanpakuto. It is alive; it varies in 'personality'; and it chooses its master."

Toushirou frowned. "So. . . It has a spirit?" He didn't like the idea of another being moving inside his inner world. One dragon is enough, thank you very much.

"No, no. Not at all. It's more like the wand. . . _fixes_ itself in your soul."

Toushirou was tempted to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, but he saw the impatient look on Soifon's face and refrained himself.

Yamamoto coughed. "Irrelevant to the matter at hand. The reason why I called you here, Captain Hitsugaya, is. . ." He shuffled his papers around, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. "I. . . have a mission for you."

Toushirou titled his head, urging him to continue.

"You will go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to learn magic and teach the Shinigami of the Gotei 13 once you finished your education." Yamamoto was suddenly very interested in his brush.

Kurotsuchi cackled silently.

Soifon frowned in disapproval.

A wide range of emotions was currently coursing through Toushirou's head. He was still _shocked_ that wizards and magic exists. He was _dreading_ the thought of having to go to school _again_. He was _irritated _at Yamamoto for sending him to said school. And. . . he was _excited_ for the chance to learn something new, something most Shinigami didn't even know _existed._

Yamamoto slid a piece of paper to Toushirou. Still lost in his own thoughts, Toushirou absently scanned the paper.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL __of__ WITCHCRAFT __and__ WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,__ Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizar__ds)_

_Dear Mr. Hitsugaya,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Toushirou looked up, staring at Yamamoto in disbelief. "You're really serious about this?"

Yamamoto nodded gravely.

"How. . ." He read the paper again. "How did you even manage this?"

The Captain-Commander chuckled, his wrinkles creasing even more. "Albus Dumbledore is my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson."

Toushirou counted. "Twenty generations?"

He nodded, pride flashing in his red eyes. "The Headmaster knows about the Shinigami, and the situation with Aizen and Voldemort. He agreed to let a Shinigami into the school and learn the ways of the wizards, as long as he is the right age in appearance as to not raise suspicion; and is willing to help protect the school from danger. If all goes well, he expects the Shinigami to join the war against Voldemort, since Aizen has allied himself with the most terrible wizard of all. "

Understanding dawned. "Oh, damn. . ."

"First years consists of eleven-year-olds," he continued. "While you are most certainly far from an eleven-year-old, you have the appearance of one. The war is closing in, and we need to counter Aizen and his. . . magical Arrancars as soon as possible." He wrote something down. "You are the perfect candidate. You are young. You are powerful enough to provide protection to the school – unless Aizen himself comes, but I highly doubt that. You are also capable of learning seven years' worth of studies in one year." His eyes sparkled at that.

"Why can't you send someone else? We're already short three Captains. . ." He tried to think of another candidate. "Rukia Kuchiki can pass as an eleven-year-old. Maybe. Or Yachiru Kusajishi." He winced internally. Yachiru Kusajishi? He must be really desperate.

"Yes, but Kuchiki is going on another mission to the Living World next week," Yamamoto said patiently. "She, along with Ikkaku Madarame, Yumichika Ayasegawa, Renji Abarai, and Rangiku Matsumoto are to stay in Karakura Town to help the Substitute Shinigami defend it from the Arrancars."

"Matsumoto. . . is going to the Living World?" He frowned. "That woman. . ." She didn't even bother telling him!

"And do you really want _Yachiru Kusajishi_ in a school full of _wizards and witches_?" Yamamoto asked.

"I know," he grumbled.

"Now." He turned to Kurotsuchi. "Captain Kurotsuchi will be researching more on the wizards and possible effects magic might have on the Arrancars. Captain Soifon, you will gather more information on the movements of the Arrancars – especially those with magical abilities. You will also send one of your officers once a month to Hogwarts to deliver any information pertaining to the situation to Captain Hitsugaya, and vice versa. Dumbledore will only let one person into the school at the end of each month." He looked at Toushirou sternly at that. "The Onmitsukidou will be your only contact with the Seireitei. The magical atmosphere disrupts our technology, which isn't adapted to magic."

Kurotsuchi looked disgruntled. He muttered something about inventing magic-resistant technology and fell silent.

Yamamoto passed Toushirou seven pieces of paper. "Your supplies. I expect you to finish school in one year, so you will need this as a reference once you finish a year." He looked down at his notes. "You are to leave for London, England in three days. You are to go to The Leaky Cauldron. A woman by the name of. . . Nymphadora Tonks will explain everything." He consulted his papers again. "Dumbledore wants you to stay at their Headquarters. She will lead you to the place after your shopping. . ."

Toushirou kept silent, even though he really, really wanted to object to the very idea of going to school again. He wondered if the students will be the same as the ones in the Academy. _Prejudicial idiots. . ._

". . . and Alastor Moody will be responsible for your protection."

"I don't need protection," he snapped reflexively. He instantly shut his mouth. That was why he tried – and failed – to keep silent.

Yamamoto seemed unperturbed. "I know, but they insist. And it is only for the duration of your stay at their Headquarters."

Toushirou sulked. "If it's their Headquarters, then shouldn't it be safe enough that no one would need a bodyguard?"

The Captain-Commander raised an eyebrow. "He is not for protection _inside_ the Headquarters. He will cast a Disillusionment Charm on you while you are fighting Hollows, and watch out for anything – enemy wizards or otherwise – that might distract you."

"Right. . ." He trailed off. "So that means wizards can see us? I don't need a Gigai?"

"Yes."

He rubbed his forehead, relieved at the thought. He hated Gigais. They were so damn uncomfortable. "Alright. Leaky Cauldron. Shopping. Headquarters. School. Got it."

Yamamoto nodded, handed him a folder with necessary information, and turned back to his paperwork. Toushirou felt sorry for the old man. Those stacks were even taller than the ones in his office – with Matsumoto's. He resolved to never, ever become the Captain-Commander. The paperwork wasn't worth it.

"Oh, and Captain Hitsugaya. Please leave the ghosts alone."

* * *

Toushirou entered his office, willing it to be Matsumoto-free.

What he got was a face full of cleavage that smelled faintly of sake.

"Guess what, Captain?" Matsumoto said cheerily. "I'm going to the Living World! Want to come?"

"No," he gasped out, managing to free himself from the lethal twins of doom. "And I already knew!"

"Huh?" She scratched her head. "I don't remember telling you."

"The old man told me," he said. "I'm also going to the Living World."

She squealed. "Yay! We're going to have so much fun! I'm –"

"Not with you," he interrupted. He hesitated, wondering if he was about to reveal classified information. _Matsumoto can keep a secret. . . if it's really important._ He launched into a full explanation of the situation with Aizen and the wizard Voldemort; where's he's going; and when he's going to come back.

After his account, he waited for the Lieutenant's reaction. She had that mask of no emotion she wore when she's thinking deeply about something important. In his entire life, he had only seen it four times. (What does that say about her?) It was a bit unnerving, seeing the usually smiling face so _Kuchiki-like. _It was a perfect poker face.

"Aww, I'm going to miss you, Captain!" Matsumoto pulled him to her chest and squeezed the life out of him. "But, wow! A magic school!" She suddenly gasped, dropping her nearly-asphyxiated Captain on the floor. "You need to pack!"

"Wait, Matsumoto!" But she was already gone. He sighed. With his luck, she'll pack weird clothes that will make him stand out even more. She had good taste in women's clothing. Men? Not so much.

He examined the rows of bookshelves. He hadn't been to England in a long time, and he needed to refresh himself on their culture and language. He toyed with the idea of asking Lieutenant Sasakibe, but decided against it. That man could be so fanatical at times. Yanking out a dusty tome from the shelf, he threw it on the couch and made himself another pot of tea. Bringing the hot drink to the low table, he settled on the couch and prepared for a long day of reading.

_So. . . Their names are switched around. . . How dumb. . ._

* * *

Toushirou, dressed in Human clothes, stood in front of the Senkaimon, tapping his left foot on the ground. Matsumoto was late, as usual. Seriously, it didn't take _three days_ to pack clothes and necessities. _Unless. . ._ He sighed. She probably added a few (several) things she herself deemed necessary. He wondered if she remembered to pack his Zanpakutou.

"Captain!" Matsumoto Flash Stepped into the scene, carrying a large blue trunk behind her. "Thanks for waiting."

"I didn't exactly have a choice, considering _you_ had my stuff," he pointed out. "And what took you so long?"

She huffed. "You want to spend the last few minutes we'll have together talking about that?" She shook her head, and then broke in a grin. "Good luck on your mission, Captain! You better teach me a few extra spells when you get back." She gave him a quick hug, and stepped back.

The Kidou Corps member opened the Senkaimon and gestured for him to go in.

* * *

It was sunny.

He stepped out, pulling his too-large trunk behind him. Humans were everywhere, pushing against each other in an effort to get to their destination faster. A bald man in an expensive-looking pin-striped suit tripped over a pebble and dropped his leather suitcase, scattering paperwork everywhere. No one seemed to notice his presence.

Across the street was a run-down shop with a sign proclaiming "The Leaky Cauldron." What a weird name. Who wants to go to a bar named after a defective kitchen equipment?

He crossed the populated street and leisurely strode inside the secret pub. Upon entry, he was assaulted with the smells of food, alcohol, and Humans.

It was packed. Wizards and witches of all shapes and sizes filled the room, eating, drinking, and laughing rambunctiously. Framed pictures with moving characters lined the walls. Old wallpaper peeled slightly at the edges. An old, bald man resembling a toothless walnut nodded at him behind the bar.

"Oi! Kid!"

He whirled. A young woman nursing a drink grinned and waved at him from across the room. She reminded him strongly of Yachiru Kusajishi with her short, bright bubble-gum pink hair, heart-shaped face, and bubbly aura. He jostled through the crowd and went to sit across from her table, setting his trunk beside his chair.

"I'm assuming you're Nymphadora Tonks –" he began.

"Tonks!" she said. "Call me Tonks."

"Right."

"So, is it true?" she asked.

"What?"

"That you're dead? That you're going to be helping us with the war against You-Know-Who?" she whispered excitedly.

Toushirou was confused. "Who?"

"You-Know-Who."

"No, I don't know who."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"That doesn't answer my question. Who must not be named?" He was getting irritated. Obviously, he was missing something here.

She rolled her eyes and looked around. She lowered her voice and leaned closer. "Voldemort." She sat back up, taking a large gulp from her drink. "People here don't like hearing his name. It's taboo to say that word, so we use euphemisms."

"That's stupid. It's just a name."

"Yeah." She brightened. "So _are_ you?"

Tonks also reminded him strongly of Matsumoto – except with a less dangerous chest. "Yeah, I'm dead." If she asked that during their first meeting, then that means she was properly informed, and it should be safe to tell her. After all, who in their right mind asks if the person they're talking to is dead? "And if all goes well, the rest of _us_ will be joining your war."

She clapped her hands. "Good. We need all the help we can get." She sipped her drink, and offered some to him. "Butterbeer?"

He shook his head. Beer made from butter? That didn't sound appetizing. Besides, he's physically underage. "Do you know about the. . . other threat?"

Her face darkened, and the happy spark in her eyes died out. He felt bad for ruining the mood. Sure, the wizards get the Shinigami as allies, but the other side also gets a super-powerful former Captain and his two henchmen backed by an Arrancar army.

"Let's not think about that," she said hurriedly. "We're supposed to be at the headquarters by sundown. Better hurry." She stood up and lifted Toushirou to his feet. She snatched his trunk and carried it to the bar. "Hey, Tom, mind watching this for us?"

Tom, the landlord, shrugged.

"Thanks. We'll also need to go to Diagon Alley." She patter Toushirou's head. "We got a new first year going to Hogwarts."

Tom ambled to a door and opened it. A normal, totally unimpressive brick wall was on the other side. He tapped his wand on the wall, and an archway appeared out of nowhere.

_Must be the magic,_ Toushirou reflected. He was impressed. If they had this kind of magic in the Seireitei, there would be no need for the streets to be so confusing. If they replaced the four Gates with magic bricks, then there would be no need for Gatekeepers, and maybe it would prevent more Ryoka invasions in the future. _Then again, Kurosaki and his gang broke into the Seireitei by fireworks. . ._ He made a mental note to research more on this.

Stepping through the archway (which promptly closed behind him), he gaped at the sight before him. There were even more wizards and witches here. Their fashion ranged from dull and black, to bright and yellow. Stores and restaurants lined the sides, from Amanuensis Quills to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. Various stalls and stands occupied any extra space. To their left, a portly woman was selling jewellery "guaranteed to keep you safe from flesh-eating slugs!"

"Got your list?" Tonks asked.

Toushirou reached into his left pocket and pulled out a neatly folded paper. He passed it to her.

"This is for third year students," Tonks said.

"Oh." He checked his other pocket, and found the one for first years. "Sorry."

"Quite alright." She read it over. "Hmm. . . I think we should get you a wand first. It's the easiest to carry and, who knows, you might need it later. But first, we need to get your money." She led the way to a big, fancy building with bronze doors flanked by uniformed goblins. "Gringotts Wizarding Bank," she proclaimed. They entered the bank and were greeted by a stout man – a goblin – who asked what they were doing. Toushirou busied himself by memorizing the layout while Tonks talked with the goblin.

"What vault number?" Tonks asked Toushirou.

He remembered the folder Yamamoto gave him. "Vault 652." He handed her the key.

"Do you want to come?"

"No, you go ahead." He was studying the goblins scurrying around. He wondered if he should send Kurotsuchi a goblin. Watching one of them stomp off after talking to a witch, he decided against it. It would be impractical to kidnap a goblin. Besides, he never did like the Twelfth Division's Captain. The freak used to ask his Captain for permission to experiment on him.

Tonks returned with a bag of coins in hand. "Let's go!" Seizing his arm with surprising strength, she exited the bank and dragged him to an old store that looked like it had seen better days. A single wand on a purple cushion sat on display. Peeling gold letters over the door spelled out _"Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC."_

Tonks casually strolled in and greeted an old man with white hair. His pale silver eyes glittered creepily in the dimly-lit shop. Toushirou felt slightly claustrophobic inside. Towering stacks of boxes reached the ceiling on all sides, covered in dust and dead bits of flies.

After Tonks introduced Toushirou to the wandmaker, Ollivanders set about to finding him a wand. A magic tape measured everything there was to measure. He tried to bat it away when it came too close to his eyes, but it kept on measuring.

"Hmm, interesting," Ollivanders muttered. He selected a box from the stacks and gave it to Toushirou. "Ash, 9 inches, unicorn hair." Toushirou handled the light brown wand sceptically. He did not see how this little stick thing could be considered a weapon.

"Give it a wave," Ollivanders suggested.

Toushirou complied. The windows shattered, the single light bulb exploded, and a table mysteriously tipped over. He cringed. "Oh, um, I'm really sorry –"

"It's alright," the wandmaker said, an excited gleam in his eye. "I'll fix it later." Humming to himself, he picked out another box from the stacks. "Definitely not ash. . ." He set another box in front of the Captain. "Ebony, 14 inches, unicorn hair."

Toushirou waved the wand, and a wooden chest in the corner caught fire. He managed to not react while Tonks extinguished the flames.

"Maybe dragon heartstring. . ." he murmured. "You've certainly got a lot of power. . ." He reached for a box from a particularly tall stack and handed it to Toushirou. "Aspen, 13 ½ inches, dragon heartstring from a Chinese Fireball."

_**Boom!**_ An entire mountain of wands exploded, scattering the boxes everywhere. Grey smoke that smelled suspiciously of sulphur wafted from the malfunctioning wand. Ollivanders snatched it back. "Definitely the wrong type of heartstring. About as wrong as you can get." He paused, a sudden realization dawning. "Of course!" He dived deep into the boxes, pushing aside a few sizzling containers. "Let's see. . ."

Digging out an old, battered white box, the wandmaker shoved the wand at the waiting customer. "Beech, 13 ½ inches, dragon heartstring from an ancient Arctic ice dragon." He opened the box, revealing a smooth, white wand with light blue streaks running down the surface. A light blue handle with white veins embraced the bottom.

Toushirou waved it, expecting something disastrous to happen. The wand glowed blue, and he felt a chill coursing through his veins. Snow gently fell from the ceiling – how _that_ happened, he didn't know. There weren't even clouds. It must be his affinity to ice.

Ollivanders beamed, lighting up his aging face. "Perfect."

He heard Hyourinmaru hum in agreement.

"That will be ten Galleons and twelve Sickles."

Tonks paid the wandmaker and the two left the store.

"Next," Tonks said, "we buy your uniform. Next stop, Madam Malkin's!" She swiftly navigated through the crowd and pushed him inside a clothing store. She called out for the owner, who quickly shuffled forward and started measuring Toushirou.

"First year in Hogwarts?" she asked, attempting to spark a conversation.

"Yeah," he replied absently. He looked around and noticed two heavyset teens carrying armfuls of clothes. They had that strong-but-stupid look about them. The perfect henchmen. He was tempted to ask if they already had someone hiring them.

"Gosh, you're pretty small, even for a first year."

He contained his irritation. Ever since that day his Bankai was destroyed by Aizen, he promised himself to never lose his temper. Losing one's temper just led to mistakes, and they can't afford mistakes in the middle of a war. "

"Here you go, dear." The woman handed him a bundle of clothes topped off with a pointy hat. He glared at it with distaste. What a ridiculous hat. It was even worse than Kyouraku's hat, kimono, and Kurotsuchi's face _combined._ Well, he might have been exaggerating, but that doesn't change the fact that the hat was absurd. He vowed to never wear it. "That would be Twelve Galleons and ten Knuts."

After paying Madam Malkin, they set off for a bookshop called Flourish and Blotts. The storekeeper handed them a stack of books after they paid in advance. As they left the store, Toushirou heard him mutter, "Thank Merlin he's not a third year."

Next, they went to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment to buy the rest of the necessary equipment. While inside, Toushirou spotted a head of red hair. For a moment, he thought it the Arrancar that killed the Third-Seat of the Second Division, and almost reached for his absent Zanpakutou, but it turned out to be a girl with fiery red hair that rivaled Abarai's.

"Yay! We're done!" Tonks exclaimed. She consulted the list. "Well, unless you want a pet."

"No," he said quickly. He would be busy enough trying to cram seven years' worth of education in one. He didn't need to worry about an animal starving to death.

She looked at the darkening sky. "Good. We need to hurry. Dumbledore's probably waiting at the Headquarters right now." She looked down at the mountain of stuff in Toushirou's arms. "Do you need help with that?"

Toushirou shook his head. He was thankful that the wizards were able to see him. The Gigai he used to wear were so weak and tight. . .

"Okay, then." She headed back to the brick wall that lead to The Leaky Cauldron. Whistling "We're Off To See The Wizard," she tapped the wall and swept her hands in a mock-bow.

Toushirou's lips twitched. He walked through the archway, Tonks following behind.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**

**Just a few things:**  
**Don't expect regular updates. I might post a chapter once a week for one month, then post nothing at all for the next three months. (But I am working on the second chapter right now.) Also, if some of the characters seem OOC, you have my deepest apologies. I haven't read the Harry Potter series in a while (years, actually), and I'm still waiting for the books from the library to be available. I'm going to try my best in the meanwhile. (Oh, and if you don't mind, tell me how I wrote Voldemort. Did I write him right? Was he in character? To be honest, all I know about him is from the few bits of stuff I know and from the Wiki.)**

**There _will_ be a sequel. It's way off in the future, but there _will_ be a sequel. . . Unless I decide to just mesh it together in one story. . . But it's supposed to have a big time skip, so I think I'm just going to separate the two. . .  
**

**So, since you have nothing else to do, type up a review!  
**


	2. Ambassador of the Court of Pure Souls

**Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo, while Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Ambassador of the Court of Pure Souls**

* * *

"Wotcher, Tom!" Tonks chirped as she entered the magical pub. She stumbled over thin air and clutched Toushirou's shoulder to steady herself. "Still have the kid's trunk? Did it get stolen?"

Toushirou frowned at being called a kid, but didn't say anything. He would probably have to get used to being treated like a child once he gets to Hogwarts.

Tom grinned. "Right here!" He levitated the familiar trunk with his wand and set it in front of the witch. "And that only happened _once._"

Tonks giggled. She waved goodbye to the landlord and pulled out her wand. She pointed the thing at the trunk. "_Reducio._" The aforementioned trunk shrunk into a pocket-sized object, impressing Toushirou immensely. She tossed him the miniature trunk and started for the door, not bothering to look back at the Shinigami still staring at his trunk in wonder.

Toushirou shook himself out of it, reminding himself that he will learn Charms like this once he gets to Hogwarts. He followed his guide out the creaky door and into the streets of London. Stepping into the paved street, he breathed in the cold air that was slightly tinged with pollution. Soul Society's air was fresher, but this would have to do. He stepped back at the last second as a raven-haired teen riding a worn-out bicycle whizzed past. The teen didn't seem to notice that she had almost run over a Shinigami Captain. Toushirou looked around the almost-empty street, trying to spot Tonks's bright pink hair. Seeing as there was no splash of pink in the immediate area, he visualized Spirit Threads to try and locate the absent witch. The Threads rose up around him, mostly white Threads with the red strand of the local Shinigami stationed in London. He caught sight of several purple Threads mixed with the white and thought_, What the hell are those?_

Before he could ponder the purple strands some more, his hand instinctively shot out and seized one of the purple threads and started running. He Flash Stepped past a shady grocery store and turned left, scaring the hell out of a jogging civilian (who had an unusual amount of spiritual power) drenched in sweat. He turned down a dark alleyway and raised an eyebrow at a beaming Tonks – who now had light blue hair. According to the folder Yamamoto had given him, she was a Metamorphmagus – someone who can change physical appearances at will (a useful ability for the Onmistukidou to have).

"Wow," she chuckled, "I didn't expect you to find me so fast."

He shrugged. "I have my ways." Then, remembering the purple Threads, he visualized them again and confirmed that yes, one of the purple Threads indeed belonged to none other than the witch standing in front of him. _Hmm. . . Perhaps the purple Threads belong to magical beings. _But that didn't explain why he had never seen them before. _Well, it's not like I use Spirit Threads to track down a person that often. . ._

"We're going to the Headquarters now." Pulling a broom seemingly out of nowhere, she looked at him questioningly. "Do you have a broom?"

Toushirou frowned and stared disapprovingly at the cleaning utensil. Was she planning to clean the alley? Considering the state of the disgusting alley – garbage, rats, and murky puddles galore – it wasn't such a bad idea, but it really wasn't the time to do community service.

Spotting the Shinigami's look, she said, "It's not what you think."

"I'm thinking that going to the Headquarters is more important than sweeping this alley."

"Using a broom is a mode of transportation for wizards," she explained, "along with the Floo Network, Portkeys, Apparition, and a few others."

Toushirou raised an eyebrow. "Broomsticks? Really? Can you get any more clichéd?"

"Those Muggle stories had to come from somewhere. Anyway, I brought a spare broom with me." She reached into her pocket.

"No!" Toushirou said quickly. "I'd rather fly on my own."

Tonks paused, blinked, and then pulled her hand out of her pocket. "You know what? When we get to the Headquarters, you're going to have to tell me exactly what you can do."

He shrugged. "Probably not a good idea. I'm not sure what I can and can't say about my people." He watched as the blue-haired witch mounted her broom and shot up into the sky. She turned and waved, calling out to join her. He gathered spirit particles under his feet and Flash Stepped right beside the Metamorphmagus, scaring the hell out of her. She laughed, and clapped him on the back.

Tonks soared through the air, Toushirou easily keeping up with his Flash Steps. After about fifteen minutes of travelling via broom / Flash Step, she dove down to the ground and landed in front of two houses numbered ten and fourteen. The Captain dropped beside her and muttered a few things about the counting abilities of British people – or the lack thereof. Tonks smiled knowingly and slipped him a small piece of parchment. He unfolded it and read the contents: _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._ He opened his mouth to say that no, there was obviously no such thing as number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London, when she said, "Think about what you just read."

He thought about it. "I still can't see –"

What he saw next took the words right out of his mouth. A battered door materialized between numbers ten and fourteen as if it had been there all along. Then came the filthy walls with black windows. A roof topped it all off – and the neighbours did not seem to notice a freakishly old house suddenly popping out of nowhere. Studying the mansion with his jaws slightly open, he noticed a few of the windows were not totally black. He could see a few shadows moving about inside. He closed his mouth and composed himself as best as he could. _That – as Lieutenant Abarai would say – is awesome._

They walked up the worn out stone steps and stopped in front of a shabby black door. Tonks tapped the entry with her wand once and stepped back. A series of curiously mechanical sounds echoed in the porch step and, after a few seconds, the door creaked open. "Keep your voice down once you enter," she whispered. "We don't want to wake up Sirius's mother."

He mentally went over what he knew about the name. Sirius Black the escaped convict. An unregistered Animagus and one Harry Potter's godfather. No mentions of other family. Toushirou felt depressed at the lack of knowledge. _Damn old man. . ._

Tonks came into the house as quietly as she could (which, admittedly, was not very quiet) and crossed the hallway, cringing at every noise her footsteps made. Toushirou, in contrast, was as silent as a ghost (which he technically was). A large chandelier swung ominously above their heads. Tonks stumbled over an oddly-shaped umbrella stand, only managing to keep from making a racket with her companion's help. She mouthed a silent _Thank you!_ and continued on. A few steps later, she stopped and turned to the white-haired boy. "Stay here and don't move," she said in an undertone. That done, she sauntered into the room with light peeking out from under, making more noise than a hyperactive elephant.

Toushirou leaned against a wall plastered with peeling wallpaper and listened to the soft voices coming from the room she had entered. He picked up a few young, protesting voices and much grumbling from a couple of older ones. The sound of a door being slammed open echoed through the house and the stomping of several agitated teenagers (and two young adults) reached his ears. Numerous bangs of wooden doors later, Tonks came back for him and said, "Alright, the kids are gone. Dumbledore will be here shortly." She let him inside the room first before carefully shutting the door and casting a few wards to prevent eavesdroppers.

Around the long table centred in the room were wizards and witches of varying levels of oddness. One man had greasy black hair and a hooked nose that resembled that of a hawk's. Another wizard had a wildly spinning eye, missing a chunk of his nose and, from what he could see from his angle, a wooden foot. One man was black and broad shouldered with a golden earring dangling from his ear. A trio of redheads sat next to each other. A man with unkempt ginger hair and an unshaven face eyed him warily from his seat. A slim woman smiled at him hesitantly. Another woman with a stern expression observed him with intelligent eyes. An old man with white hair glanced at the Shinigami and went back to looking down at his lap. A long-haired man with playful eyes grinned at him, reminding Toushirou of the kindly Jyuushirou Ukitake.

He recognized them all.

The Order of the Phoenix. Most of them, anyway.

Silence.

No one seemed to be willing to make the first move. Sighing internally, he said, "I suppose you all know that I am –"

"An ambassador from Japan," Tonks cut in brightly. "Yep. You heard me."

The Order of the Phoenix and the visiting Captain stared at her. _Ambassador from Japan?_

"Let's wait for Dumbledore before saying anything important, shall we?" said the one with the weird eye. Mad-Eye Moody.

Toushirou felt an unknown entity probe his mind, and instantly cast strong wards around his consciousness, Hyourinmaru roaring in displeasure. He observed each of the gathered magical people before settling on the greasy-haired Professor Severus Snape. He knew that Snape was a Legilimens, along with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and the Dark Wizard Voldemort. He glared at him with his hard teal eyes, and the Professor glared right back with his own sneering black. After a silent battle, Snape retreated and turned back to glaring at nothing in particular.

Tonks ushered Toushirou to an empty seat and sat down across from him. She played with her facial features. She altered her nose to look like a pig's, a monkey's, and one that looked suspiciously like Severus Snape's. Her hair changed into different shades of green with streaks of dull yellow and orange. This went on for about twenty minutes.

"Ah, I am so sorry for my tardiness. It seems I lost track of time while reading the most fascinating book about pigeons." A purple-clad old man with mischievous blue eyes stepped into the room. His long white beard tied half-way through with a band was comparable to the Captain-Commander's own beard. It wasn't as neat or well-groomed as Yamamoto's, though. The ancient wizard, overall, looked like a stereotypical Merlin from those human stories. "Did you know that male pigeons can also produce milk for the babies, just like the females do?"

The room was quiet for a moment before Toushirou remarked, "No, and I was quite happy that I didn't."

Dumbledore fixed his gaze onto the white-haired Captain. "Ah, yes, our ambassador is here."

His eye twitched. What ambassador? He was not informed that he had to have a cover story. He assumed that, since Tonks clearly knew what he was, the others did too. _Damn old man. . ._

"Since everyone is here, the meeting will now commence." Dumbledore sat at the end of the table and nodded at Toushirou, who was at his immediate left. "I believe you are all wondering who our new acquaintance is –"

"Quite," Minerva McGonagall muttered.

" –and I can tell you right now that he is not dangerous at all."

Tonks and Moody – who had been drinking from their cups of water – choked. Toushirou bit back a smile. _Not dangerous, my foot. . ._

"Not dangerous to the Order," Dumbledore amended. He was smiling a little when he said this. "This is Toushirou Hitsugaya, an ambassador sent to help us with our battle against Voldemort." He disregarded the flinches at the name. "Mr. Hitsugaya is from a secret society of warriors based in Japan – although, more than two hundred of his people are spread around the world at any given time. Please do your best to make him feel welcome in England. He has come all the way from the Court of Pure Souls to observe our culture."

"If I may, Albus," said Minerva McGonagall, the stern-looking woman, "but what is a child doing in our Headquarters, let alone our _meeting?_ And what's this about courts?"

The redheaded mother-like woman nodded her head furiously. Toushirou was – predictably – not at all pleased with McGonagall.

Dumbledore laughed softly. "Oh, Mr. Hitsugaya is anything but a child. As I was saying, his secret society – much like our own, actually – had heard of our. . . predicament with You-Know-Who. The leader of the military of his society – the Thirteen Court Guards, who live in a place called the Court of Pure Souls – has offered the services of his own warriors to help fight the Dark Wizard. His people are mobilizing for war even as we speak. Mr. Hitsugaya is sent here to learn more about the wizarding world and to keep his leader informed about the situation with You-Know-Who. It is not very easy to communicate with his people, you see. Actually, it's nigh on impossible to contact them unless you know the right people." Dumbledore patted the Captain's snowy hair – a gesture Toushirou did not appreciate. "And, fortunately for us, we know the right person."

Toushirou was annoyed at the way the Headmaster was tossing around information so carelessly. He did notice that he didn't say anything too specific – except for naming the Gotei 13 and the Seireitei. Was there anyone in this room that knew about what he really was, aside from Moody and Tonks? He made a mental note to confront Dumbledore about the cover story they decided to use without informing him later.

"His people will join the war in a few years' time," Dumbledore continued. "I believe that is enough time for Mr. Hitsugaya to study at least the basics of magic so they can be better prepared when they face the Dark Wizards."

"Hold on," Snape cut in, "you're just letting an entirely new civilisation just _learn_ about our weaknesses? What if they are secretly working for the Dark Lord?"

Toushirou decided that, although he did not care for the man, he respected him for being cautious around a stranger with unknown abilities. "I can assure you, we are not helping that person – if he can be called that," he spat. Voldemort had split his soul into seven pieces using a forbidden technique that had been banned from both the wizarding world and Soul Society for thousands of years. That man had broken one of the most sacred laws in Soul Society and turned himself into a shadow of a man because of it – and corrupting the soul of an innocent boy in the process. "In return for us learning about magic, we will provide you with around two thousand warriors ready to fight in this war. Considering the state of your government right now, I think you'd need us in this war."

The wizards and witches stared at him, wide-eyed in disbelief.

"Two – two thousand?" whispered the slim woman, Emmeline Vance.

Dumbledore coughed. "Ah, two thousand? Your leader did not inform me the exact number of your forces. . ."

Toushirou cringed. _Oops._ "I'm sorry. I really have no idea what I'm allowed – or not allowed – to say. I was not very well informed on the things that mattered, you see." He shot a meaningful glare at the Headmaster. "I think I just released classified information. So, please do not repeat what I just said to anyone, lest one of Voldemort's spies overhear. We want to surprise him," he lied. Aizen was probably feeding Voldemort information about the Seireitei. But still, he did not want the Gotei 13's strength in manpower to be common knowledge.

The members nodded in understanding.

"There is also another reason why the Thirteen Court Guards are joining with us," Dumbledore said softly. "None of this is to leave this room. The last thing we need is for people to panic." Scanning the earnest faces before him, he nodded. Toushirou spotted the quick flick of Dumbledore's wand underneath the table and the slight burst of spiritual energy. "There is another threat. Three of the Divisions'. . . leaders. . . have defected from their ranks. Their spies recently acquired proof that these three have allied themselves with You-Know-Who."

Several people gasped. Most had a horrified look on their faces. All of them were shocked.

"Dear Merlin," Molly Weasley whispered.

"Damn," Sirius Black swore.

Remus Lupin gripped the edge of the table so hard, Toushirou heard the wood almost breaking – and he was on the other side of the table.

"These three," Kingsley Shacklebolt asked, "how dangerous are they?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "That, I do not know."

Everyone turned to Toushirou, who had a slight, thoughtful frown on his face. He unconsciously touched the spot on his chest where his Gentei Reiin was tattooed on the skin. The Captain-Commander still gave him the tattoo, but he gave him permission to release the limit if he deemed proper. "I haven't seen how you fight, so it would be hard for me to compare their strength to yours. . . But. . . I can honestly say that – at full strength – they have more than enough power to level a small city. They also have their own army of. . . monsters. . . backing them up."

The assembled people paled. The ginger-haired man – Mundungus Fletcher – looked positively green. A cloud of despair hung over everyone's heads.

"As you can see," Dumbledore started again, "things are taking a turn for the worse." He clapped his hands. "But, as long as our two societies work together, we should stand a chance against the people trying to take over the world. Now, any questions?" he asked, as if addressing a classroom of children.

"Yes," Molly Weasley said. "I don't think you answered Minerva's question fully. What is a child doing in our meeting? He may be a representative or whatever, but he is still underage and I will not –"

"I am not underage," Toushirou interrupted.

"He's right, Molly," Dumbledore said with a smile. "In fact, I think he may be the oldest person in this room."

_Damn right I am. _

"Albus –" Minera started.

"I am two hundred and sixty-four years old," Toushirou said flatly.

Dumbledore winced at the blunt answer.

Weasley looked taken aback. "What – ?"

"I am two hundred and sixty-four years old," the Captain repeated. "I do not see anything that can possibly mislead you in that statement."

"That's just not possible," said Elphias Doge doubtfully. "Not even Dumbledore is that old."

Toushirou resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Just as your people can live longer than normal humans, my people can live longer than wizards." _Much, much longer. . . and if you can call it live._

"I don't care if you're two hundred or two _thousand!"_ Weasley yelled. "I will _not_ have a child participate in a war –"

"Mum," William Weasley began.

"_Will_ _you stop interrupting me?_" she roared. William Weasley shrank back, positively terrified of his mother. She turned to Toushirou. "And _you!_ Do your parents know about this? I cannot _believe_ they would let their own _son_ fight in something that doesn't even _concern_ them! Now, I want you to tell your _leader_ to send you back where you came from and dispatch someone else who is _older_, more _capable_, and who actually know what they're _doing!_" She huffed, red-faced, and sat back down.

The Order members glanced at each other for a moment before staring fearfully at the red-haired mother who now sat quietly in her chair and waited for an answer from either Dumbledore or Toushirou.

"As I said," Toushirou said softly. "I am _not _a child. I may _look_ like one, and I may be considered one from where I came from, but I am easily older and more experienced than all of you. My parents do not know about this because I don't _have_ parents. This _does_ concern us, since the traitors from our society have joined together with your Dark Wizard. I will _not_ tell my leader to send myself back, since I _am_ old, I _am_ capable, and I _do_ know what I'm doing." He stood up. "I think we're done here. You have been informed of the situation – more informed than planned, in fact – and I would like to rest now. It has been a tiring day." With that, he stomped out of the room and slammed the door into the wall. _That door is going to die before the month is out,_ he reflected.

He wandered around the ground floor, not knowing where he was going. It wasn't like Yamamoto provided him with blueprints of this place. Eventually, he found a stairwell and climbed up to the second floor. He passed through a long hallway of doors without a sound. He heard voices coming from the rooms and decided to listen in. He pressed an ear beside a door.

". . . broke Fred and George's Extendable Ears. . ."

Toushirou pulled back. _Extendable ears?_ He chose to ignore the odd ramblings in the room and breezed through the rest of the hallway. He ascended yet another set of stairs and found that there were more people residing behind doors. He didn't want to hear anything more about Extendable Ears and mounted to the fourth floor. The fourth floor had no people, if a bit darker and dustier. He went back down to the ground floor and bumped into the man with playful eyes. Sirius Black.

"Hey there," Black said in a friendly tone.

Toushirou merely nodded. He made to move past him, but Black grabbed his arm and said, "Dumbledore and Tonks are looking for you. They're in the kitchen."

The Captain nodded his thanks and once again started wandering. He knew he passed through the kitchen at one point, but he wasn't paying attention to where he was going and he couldn't remember where it was. After about a minute of walking nowhere, he arrived at a room with the Merlin-wannabe and Tonks leaning against the table. Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody was also there, his fake eye swimming around in a glass of water.

"Can I ask something?" Toushirou said, not bothering with courtesies.

"Yeah?" Tonks prompted.

"Who knows the truth about me?"

"Only us three know," Moody said gruffly. "And the two of us aren't even supposed to know." He pointed at Tonks, who rubbed her head sheepishly and pointedly looked away from all of them.

He looked at Dumbledore, waiting for him to explain.

"Tonks is a curious person," he answered. "She. . . overheard a few things she wasn't supposed to and offhandedly mentioned it to Alastor, who interrogated her on everything she knew afterwards. As for the others, they only know what was said during the meeting – which, by the way, was more informative than planned." He pushed away from the table. "The Order has agreed that it is best if you do not reveal yourself to the children. They are very inquisitive children, and awkward questions that we cannot answer might be raised if they see a stranger wandering around. To avoid confrontation with them, you will sleep in the topmost floor. I doubt you will want to sleep in Regulus Black's room, so Sirius's bedroom will have to do. I believe he is setting up a spare bed right now." He looked at Toushirou in the eye with a stern gaze. "You are not to leave that room unless the children are away. It is imperative that they do not know about your presence in the house. Food will be brought up to you at regular intervals and anything else you might want. There is a window in the room, and if you sense. . . monsters. . . outside, you can exit via window."

That sounded a lot like imprisonment. . .

"I'm keeping tabs on you," said Moody, putting his eye back. "So if you leave this house, I'll know. Wait outside for a moment and I'll cast a Disillusionment Charm on you."

"I travel fast, though," Toushirou pointed out. "How are you going to keep up?"

Moody grinned. "Tell me where the monster is and I'll Apparate. I know these streets like the back of my hand. I'll probably get there before you."

"Can I come?" Tonks piped up.

"No," Toushirou said flatly.

"But why?"

"Because I can't look after both you and Moody."

"I can look after myself," she retorted hotly.

"Probably," he agreed, "but these, um, monsters are different than wizards. I'm not sure how magic will affect them. However, I _do_ know that the Killing Curse won't work on them." _Because they are already dead._

She caught her breath, and even Moody and Dumbledore looked surprised.

"How would you know that?" she whispered.

He simply replied, "We have spies."

Tonks took a moment to gather herself. "Well, there are other ways to fight."

"I cannot allow you to fight these monsters." He didn't know what would happen if the wizards fight Hollows. They might be like the Quincies – eradicating the Hollows from existence and unbalancing the cycle of souls – and they didn't need or want to resort to exterminating an entire race _again_ if the wizards found out they can kill Hollows.

"Tonks," Dumbledore intervened, "Toushirou knows what he's doing. Leave the fighting to him."

She looked ready to continue the argument, but one look from Moody and she backed down. "Fine," she sulked. "But I get to go with him to the train."

* * *

The past few days were uneventful and so very boring. The room Toushirou was occupying had faded red and gold decorations hung all over the place, with old posters of half-naked women and motorcycles (some both in the same poster) drooping from their places in the wall. His surprisingly comfortable bed was simple: a small mattress with white sheets and a single fluffy pillow for his head. On the other side of the room was Black's bed – it was big, red, and screamed of rebelliousness and anarchy. Fitting, considering the kind of man Black was.

Black had taken to enlightening Toushirou with their culture during the nights. He spoke passionately of a wizard sport called Quidditch, which consisted of flying brooms, hoops, and a small golden Snitch. He educated him in some of the well-known wizard stories like _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_, _The Tale of the Three Brothers_, and _The Wizard and the Hopping Pot_. Toushirou found the story of _The Warlock's Hairy Heart_ particularly fascinating. Black had brought a Wizard's Chess set and they played through the night, with Black using the black pieces and Toushirou using the white. After a few losses, Toushirou had finally gotten the hang of the rules and started challenging Black, ultimately winning the satisfyingly fun strategy game. Sometimes, Remus Lupin the werewolf would visit and watch the match. He would also occasionally join Black in teaching Toushirou wandless spells – something the Captain appreciated. His textbooks – all of which were for first years – spoke nothing of wandless magic.

"Hey, Toushirou," Black said casually. It was Toushirou's tenth night staying in number twelve, Grimmauld Place. It was two o'clock in the morning. They were both lying on their beds, enjoying the tranquil peace of the night that permeated the air after a long game of Chess. "Can you tell me about your society? The Court of something?"

Toushirou stiffened. _Oh, why did you have to break the comfortable silence?_

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," he said quickly. "I understand the whole need for secrecy. . . But. . . what is it like?"

The white-haired Captain thought for a moment. Should he tell this man? He already knew more than he should because of that damn meeting. They had only known each other for ten days, yet Toushirou felt like he could trust him (again, another thing Black has in common with Ukitake – they had that _trust me!_ aura about them). From the few things Lupin had told him about Black's past, the Animagus was loyal to a fault, and would rather die than betray his friends. He admired these traits, and he genuinely liked the man, but could he keep a secret? He mentally slapped his forehead. Here they were in a secret Headquarters right in the middle of London hiding from a Dark Wizard's Death Eater minions. _Of course_ he can keep a secret.

"The Seireitei," Toushirou finally said, "or the Court of Pure Souls, is like a city. A really confusing city with roads that make no sense whatsoever. In fact, travelling by rooftop is more popular than using the roads. I don't really know much about the how normal. . . warriors spend their time, aside from their duties. They train, they do paperwork, or they go off to some bar and drink themselves to oblivion." His lips twitched. "The higher-ranking people are some of the oddest people I have ever met. It's like the more powerful you are, the weirder you get." He grinned to himself. Yep, he definitely fell into the category of _odd – _although, he was a bit normal compared to some of them.

Black smiled. "Sounds fun."

"Spend ten minutes with one of them – I dare you. I guarantee you'll want to rip their heads off after." He paused, thinking of a certain Substitute Shinigami who annoyed him like no other. "Actually. . . I think you might like some of them. I know a teenager with orange hair, and he's like the Japanese version of Harry Potter. The same age as well. You two would probably hit it off." Yes, he knew a lot about Potter. Not only did Potter have an extensive section in his folder solely dedicated to recounting what happened these past few years, but he also heard his not-so-covert conversations with his friends during the day. He learned more about Cedric Diggory and his untimely death from Potter than his folder. Both Potter and Kurosaki had the same hero complex, the same need to protect everyone and anyone who happened to be within a five-block radius. Seriously, this was a war. Deaths were meant to happen. Couldn't they get that through their thick skulls?

"A person like Harry Potter?" Black chuckled. "You don't see many of those in this world. . ."

"We have a whole load of them back home," he said absently. "Mostly high-ranking officers. Lieutenants." He wondered how Matsumoto was doing. The last time he left her for a prolonged period of time – one month – she completely trashed his office, got three-fourths of the division hung-over, an entire barrack spray-painted purple, and all the gardens destroyed by a mysterious fire coming from the Eleventh. It had taken the better part of a year to restore the flora. Now, multiply those damages by ten. . .

He swiftly changed the subject. "So, how's it going out there?" He didn't want to think about the damages he would see when he gets back home.

Black sighed. "Muggle murders are popping up all over the place. It was horrible. Apparently, the bodies were mutilated beyond recognition. Snape and –"

The sound of a beeping phone cut him off. Toushirou's senses warned him of Hollows much too near for his comfort. Toushirou pulled out his high-tech phone from under his pillow and glanced at the screen. A couple of Hollows were terrorizing a Plus soul about three blocks away, near a park. _Shit._ He pocketed the phone and calmly felt for his trunk under the bed. Sliding it out, he lifted the lid and pushed the surprisingly normal shirts, jeans, and a few Italian suits to one side (he had no idea where Matsumoto had bought the suits). He reached for the side of the trunk and ran his fingers along the cherry wood, trying to find the small indentation that locked his Zanpakutou from prying eyes. He found the tiny, circular area and poured a bit of his wintry spiritual energy into the space, unlocking the secret compartment and revealing his sheathed Zanpakutou. Ignoring Black's inquisitive looks, he slid the sash over his shoulder, fixed his Zanpakutou on his back, and leaped for the windowsill. He jumped four floors down onto the vacant street and waited for Moody. One minute later, the door opened and Moody made his way beside the Captain. The Auror tapped his wand on Toushirou's head. The sensation of having an egg cracked on his head accompanied the casting of the Disillusionment Charm.

"Where's the monster?" asked Moody. He looked way too alert during this time of night. His fake eye was spinning diligently, spying the surrounding darkness for any enemies that lurked within.

"Three blocks west," Toushirou replied quietly. "Near a park. Just follow my. . . presence." With that, he disappeared in a Flash Step. Several seconds later, he stopped in front of a park and cast his senses out for the Hollows. His ear twitched. The sobs of a little girl reverberated from a plot of pine trees to his left. Unsheathing his Zanpakutou, he Flash Stepped into the small forest and arrived just in time to parry the claw of an oversized Hollow with a strong resemblance to a bear. He looked at the brunette with a broken Chain of Fate. "Go." He turned back to the Hollow and, with one slash of his blade, cut it in half. The Hollow was hardly strong, not powerful enough to even challenge a lower seated officer.

A screech from above made him look up and jump away from his previous spot. A lithe, bird-like Hollow crashed into the ground and peered at Toushirou with its clean white mask. The Captain Flash Stepped away from its swiping sharp talons and stabbed the Hollow on the back. The extra-long Zanpakutou embed itself inside the Hollow, digging in deeper and deeper until it emerged to the other side. The corrupt soul grunted, and fell off the blade with a squelching sound.

Toushirou turned away from the Hollow and Flash Stepped away from the cover of trees. Releasing a bit of his spiritual energy to shake off the Charm, he spotted the girl standing in a sandbox, looking at him with something akin to trepidation. As he approached the soul, she stepped back and meekly said, "Don't. . . Don't come. . ."

"I'm not here to hurt you," he murmured, trying to look as harmless as possible – which wasn't very easy while holding a long katana, surprise, surprise. He raised Hyourinmaru, slowing down slightly when the girl flinched. Her Chain of Fate was alarmingly short. She had maybe three or four hours before becoming a Hollow. He gave the customary _I-am-here-to-send-you-to-a-better-place_ speech and performed Konsou on the little girl.

"That looks impressive," said Moody. He was leaning against the red slide, staring at the spot where the girl had been. "What'd you do?"

Toushirou shrugged. "I sent her off." He returned his Zanpakutou to its sheath and nodded at Moody. "We're done here. Good night. . . or morning." After watching Moody Apparate away, he gazed at the patch of trees with narrowed eyes. Something was wrong. A minute passed, and his keen eyes glimpsed a flash of red before it disappeared into the darkness_. I didn't even sense her. . ._ Shaking his head, he grudgingly admitted that the red-haired Arrancar woman was very stealthy indeed.

* * *

**Whoo! Second chapter done. ****I'm not sure why, but I found this particularly hard to write.  
**

**I only read this over a couple of times to correct the typos, but if you see any, please point them out. Especially any errors with the tenses. I found that, while reading this, the sentences were a bit awkward, but I couldn't find a way to write them better. Ah well, perhaps that comes with experience. . .  
**

**I almost typed out "Thirteen Court Guard Squads" for when Dumbledore was talking about the Gotei 13. I couldn't write that, since in the first chapter, I was using "Divisions" to refer to the different "Squads." Divisions seem more natural to me than squads. I looked it up on the Wiki, and found that there were three translations to the Gotei 13, one of which was Thirteen Division Imperial Guards - which completely fits with the names of the divisions I used. That looked a little weird to me, so I just wrote Thirteen Court Guards to avoid the inaccuracy.  
Now, I need your opinion. Should I use "Thirteen Division Imperial Guards," or just stay with "Thirteen Court Guards?" I know it may seem trivial to you, but I don't like discrepancies.  
**

**Review!  
**


	3. Of Queens, Hats and Locomotives

**Disclaimer: Bleach and Harry Potter are not mine.**

**ADVANCED WARNING: As of this chapter, the time stream might not be accurate. I need to cram certain events within a certain space of time, so I'll be meddling with the time-event scheme of OotP a bit (or a lot). That's okay, right? Because it's fanfiction . . . And a lot will be happening in one school year, I assure you . . .  
Also, any OCs that might be featured and / or mentioned are mostly extremely minor, and will only probably appear a few times for the sake of details. Or die, like, right after (morbid mind~).**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Of Queens, Hats and Locomotives**

* * *

Toushirou sighed as he leaned back on the wooden bench and looked up at the cloudy sky.

He had been stuck in that mansion for weeks, never leaving except for Hollow cleansing – and that one time to buy several more textbooks from Diagon Alley. Dumbledore had forewarned him that Defence Against the Dark Arts might be – to put it bluntly – useless this year. This was the first time he ever really got the chance to see London without fighting in decades. Potter and his friends were out, and the twins had gone to Diagon Alley – something about advertisements. Black was nice enough to give him directions to the tourist attractions in London, and Flash Stepping to said attractions was much faster than taking public transportation. He had ignored his human clothes in favour of his shihakusho. He was not going to spoil his day by wearing stiff jeans. Humans couldn't see him, so what did it matter? Moody was – for once – not at the house, so he didn't need to have a Disillusionment Charm cast on him. He didn't like the feeling, anyway. It slightly disrupted his sense of balance.

Molly Weasley was adamant about weapons in public. Since she didn't know about humans not being able to see him, he settled on Transfiguring Hyourinmaru into a knife using a very handy spell he learned from Black and slipping him into his pocket. The dragon was far from pleased, but he understood. He wanted to spend some time with his wielder, too.

On the way to his destinations, he encountered Harry Potter. The boy was wandering around an empty side street, looking quite a bit lost. He had been crossing the street when a speeding car rounded a corner and hurtled towards the Boy Who Lived.

Of course, just to make his life harder, the wizard froze.

Acting on instinct, Toushirou used a small Flash Step and tackled him to the side, narrowly avoiding the foolish driver. The idiot had the _nerve_ to honk his horn at them! _The light was red, dumbass!_

The Shinigami was prepared to leave it at that, but Potter just had to grab his arm and thank him profusely for saving his life. Toushirou waved him off, and said that it was nothing. He quickly ran away, not waiting for a reply.

So here he was, dressed in a shihakusho with his companion in his pocket, sitting in a park in the afternoon, comparing Buckingham Palace to the Kuchiki manor.

Buckingham Palace was bigger than the Kuchiki manor; that much, he established. Both had the same air of nobility and pride, causing all observers to stop and stare for a while. However, while the Palace was grand and ornate, the Kuchiki manor was simple, yet held a sort of subtle elegance to it. The architecture was – obviously – different. Toushirou doubted he'd see shoji doors in the Buckingham Palace.

His eyes wandered over to the doors of the Palace. It was closed. Were there tours? As beautiful as the Palace was, it was boring just staring at it from a distance. He stood up, dusted imaginary dirt from his clothes, and Flash Stepped into the Palace grounds. He passed through the huge double doors and froze, staring in awe at the inside of the Palace.

It was truly a home for the royals. Everything was luxurious and lavish. The drapes and rugs were made from the finest materials, intricate patterns adorning its surfaces. Paintings hung from the walls; most of them probably older than he was. Crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, the lights reflecting off its surfaces and producing faint rainbows from its surface. The walls themselves bespoke centuries of housing king and queens; princes and princesses; and nobles and servants alike.

He wandered through the halls. He didn't think that he was breaking and entering; after all, he did not break anything to enter the Palace. He liked to think of himself as a tourist. Yes, a tourist.

Toushirou stepped through a wall and almost had a heart attack.

There, sitting on a plush armchair and drinking tea, was the Queen.

He started to back away, almost reaching the walls and preparing to pass through it again. However, before he could do anything else, the Queen looked up and met his eyes.

_Wait . . . What?_

He stopped, and blinked. The Queen smiled gently and gave a little wave.

_. . . What?_

Toushirou, not knowing what to do, waved back.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Reaper. May I help you?"

Those two sentences reduced the Captain of the Tenth Division into a gaping dunce.

The Queen laughed when she saw his expression. "It's quite alright, Mr. Reaper. I have always been able to see your kind. The first time I encountered a Soul Reaper was the day one of you sent off a good friend's soul." Her eyes grew sad. "I can't say I wasn't reluctant to let him, but I understood what needed to be done. Now, are you here to perform a – what do you call it? – a Soul Burial?"

Toushirou closed his mouth and regained his composure. _Okay. The Queen of England knows about the Shinigami. That's okay. Because she's a Queen, and she knows how to keep secrets._ "No," he said in English, "I'm not. I was just here . . . to look around," he finished lamely. Then it hit him that he should probably bow. He was in the presence of a queen. Captain or not, he wasn't royalty – far from it. He bowed low. "I'm very sorry for intruding on your Palace. I will leave immediately – "

"Oh, no," she said hurriedly. "It's fine." She raised the pot of tea. "Would you like to join me, Mr. Reaper?"

He nodded dumbly. He walked forward and sat on one of the armchairs. She poured him a cup of tea, humming as she did so. "As you probably have already guessed, I am the Queen of England."

"I am Hits – Toushirou Hitsugaya," he introduced himself. He took a sip of tea, wanting to ask the royal so many questions, but thought it was more polite to let her start the conversation.

"I suppose you are wondering how I knew about Soul Reapers," she murmured. "Well, as I said, I have always been able to see spirits. When my friend died, her soul was sent off by a white-haired Soul Reaper by the name of Jyuushirou Ukitake."

He choked on his tea. "U-Ukitake?"

"Yes." Her eyes twinkled. "You know him?"

He nodded. "He is . . . an acquaintance of mine."

"He was kind enough to explain the situation to me," she continued. "He explained what he did to her soul, and what the monsters and ghosts I saw as a child were." She paused and looked at him up and down. "You have his hair. Are you related to him?"

Toushirou shook his head. "No."

"Oh. He was a nice man. How is he? He mentioned he had some kind of sickness . . ."

"He's holding up well. Our healers make sure of that."

"That's good."

They made small talk. The Queen, he found out, was a nice woman. She reminisced about the past, telling him of some of the interesting ghosts she conversed with and some incidents in the past concerning Hollows. She wasn't hurt by them, since a Shinigami always came by to cleanse them. In return, he spoke of some of the places he had been while on missions to the Living World. She was particularly fascinated by some of the conversations he had with British soldiers during the World War II.

Eventually, the tea ran out and the sun dropped behind the horizon. The Queen bid him goodbye on the stairs of the Palace and watched as he Flash Stepped away.

_What an interesting child,_ she mused.

* * *

Toushirou leisurely made his way back to number twelve Grimmauld Place, pondering about his meeting with the Queen.

_I met the Queen. And she was nice._

He shook his head and told himself to think about it when he got back. He was only three blocks away from Black's house, and he wanted to savour the twilight sky for as long as possible. He breathed deeply, the aroma of freshly baked cupcakes wafting from the bakery from a brightly lit house across the street.

_Click!_

His eyes snapped to the side and saw a dog-sized Hollow scuttling toward him, its pincers clicking back and forth. He Flash Stepped into the grassy area and blocked its way. He held out a hand and twin flames of blue shot from the palm, incinerating the Hollow in an instant.

He squared his shoulders and smiled to himself. _That wasn't so bad._

"Blimey! What the hell was that?!"

He spoke too soon.

Toushirou looked over his shoulder and saw a black-haired boy standing slack-jawed on the pavement. His glasses slid down his nose a little, giving him a better view of the green eyes behind the clear surface. The Captain squinted and made out the small lightning-shaped scar on the boy's forehead.

_Shit._

Harry Potter broke from his place and ran at him, stopping just three feet away.

"Yes?" Toushirou asked warily.

"What was that – that thing?!"

"It was a Transfiguration attempt gone wrong," he lied evenly. "It used to be a cockroach. I was trying to Transfigure it into a dog."

"Transfigure . . . You're a wizard?" Potter blinked, and looked at him closely. "You're the bloke who saved me!"

"Yes," Toushirou agreed. "And you're Harry Potter. I've read about you." _Not a lie . . . Well, he's seen me already. Might as well get close to him. He might be a useful ally. He _is_ rather good at Defence Against the Dark Arts . . ._

"Yeah," Potter said, shoulders sagging. When Toushirou didn't say anything other than that, he brightened. "So, thanks again for saving me, um . . ."

"Toushirou Hitsugaya," he introduced himself.

"Tou – Toushirou. That sounds Chinese."

"Japanese," he corrected. "I'm from Japan."

"Right." Then he gasped. "You – you just performed underage magic! A-and how old are you, anyway?"

"I'm ten," he muttered with just the slightest hint of loathing (Potter probably didn't notice it). "Turning eleven in December. I'm Muggle-born, and I don't have my wand with me right now, so I think I'm exempt from the law. If not, I can just pass it off as a freak accident – both of them."

"Oh. . ." Potter stared at him, looking a little impressed. "For a Muggle-born, you sure know a lot about wizard laws . . ." When he saw the (fake) insulted expression on Toushirou's face ("_So I _have_ to be stupid and ignorant because I'm a Muggle?"_), he swiftly changed the subject. "So are you going to Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"But aren't there magic schools in Japan too? What was that one called . . . Mahoutokoro?"

"I know," Toushirou replied, not knowing that at all. _Damn, think of a lie, THINK OF A LIE!_ "My . . . parents died recently, so I moved to England . . . where my next closest kin is." He made sure to lower his eyes as he explained his situation. _That should keep him from prying . . ._

Potter winced. "I-I'm sorry . . ."

An awkward silence ensued.

Toushirou cleared his throat. "It's getting dark; I need to go home now. It was nice meeting you, Harry Potter."

"Nice meeting you, too . . ."

* * *

Toushirou climbed through the window and carefully closed it shut.

He knew he would have to speak to Black, Lupin, and _definitely Dumbledore_ later on; Potter would not keep those two incidents to himself. Why was he alone outside, anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be with Weasley and Granger?

He took Hyourinmaru from his pocket and turned him back into a sword; he heard the dragon hum contentedly. He pulled his trunk from under the bed and returned him to his hiding place. He threw on his pyjamas and had just pushed his trunk back under the bed before Black burst into the room with unreadable expressions on their faces.

"Hi," Toushirou greeted lazily. "I assume Potter had told you what happened?"

Black looked at him for a moment before he grinned. "Harry told us about a white-haired kid doing magic in public and saving his life. Luckily, it was only me and the children listening. Molly was cooking, and Arthur's working overtime. So, in return for saving my godson's life, we won't breathe a word about this to Dumbledore."

He stared at Black incredulously. "Dumbledore's your boss. I had just revealed my existence to Harry Potter – which I was not supposed to do. Isn't that kind of important?"

Black waved a hand. "It's actually not that important. As long as Harry doesn't know that you're from another society, and that you have ties to the Order, it's safe. I doubt Dumbledore would make a big deal out of it." He produced a set of Wizard's Chess from nowhere and sat on the bed, readying the pieces. "Now, a game of chess?"

Toushirou gazed at him for a moment before saying, "Sure."

* * *

The Captain glared at the brick wall in front of him. "No."

"You have to," Tonks insisted.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No," she said, exasperated. "You really do have to walk into the wall. It's Platform 9 ¾ ! Look." She pointed at a woman and a black-haired girl pushing a similar trolley to his. She waved at the woman goodbye, faced the pillar, and casually passed through the wall, like it was just a hologram.

"See?" Tonks bragged. "I'm right."

". . . It's a brick wall . . . I can see people bumping into it . . . Why do wizards always have make everything complicated?" he grumbled. He pushed his trolley in front of him (and vaguely wondered what the humans were seeing now; a trolley moving on its own?) and positioned it in front of the pillar. He pushed the logical part of his brain saying, _"You're running into a wall!"_ into the back of his mind and ran in, closing his eyes and expecting him to smack into a hard surface any moment. _Matsumoto's going to laugh at me if she ever hears of this . . ._

Surprisingly, the expected smack never came. He opened his eyes and saw a train platform filled with bustling students carrying cats, toads, and owls. Parents were bidding their children goodbye, some with tears on their faces. The littlest ones were jumping up and down in excitement, their wands gripped firmly in their hands. Obviously, they couldn't wait to start school. The older ones were more composed, but they still had smiles plastered on their faces.

The scarlet train was idling on the track. Several students were already filing in, and he could see several more chatting with each other through the windows. The train itself was radiating a strange aura; it felt somewhat like Black's house, but stronger.

_Magic,_ he reflected. _Layers of it, and powerful, too. So _Hogwarts: A History_ wasn't lying when it said Hogwarts Express took a lot of magic to acquire._ He took care to commit the feeling to memory.

"Yeah, it's a lot to take in at first," Tonks said from behind him. Then, she pushed him forward none too gently. "Go on! The compartments fill up rather quickly; it's best if you get one for yourself early. Don't wanna end up with Slytherins or anything."

He sighed, but complied. He weaved through the maze of students and stepped over wayward pets running from their owners. He reached the train and headed straight for the compartments near the back. He opened an empty compartment door and set his trunk on the provided slots. That done, he sat, crossed his arms, and put his head on his arms.

Now that he actually had time to process what was going on, it hit him. The excitement at going to Hogwarts (albeit as a first year, but he could always ignore that). He was secretly giddy at the thought of having access at one of the most extensive magical libraries in Europe. Apparently, it covered topics from the simplest of Charms, to the most dangerous and forbidden Curses. Centuries of magical history going back hundreds of years were slotted neatly in organized shelves. Even useless topics such as the invention of jars were accounted for. His one year limit was definitely not enough if he wanted to skim through every book in the library.

"May I come in?"

He raised his head and nodded at the girl peeking through the door. She smiled, and sat in the seat across from him. "Luna Lovegood, fourth year."

"Toushirou Hitsugaya, first year." The girl before him was . . . eccentric. She had long dirty blonde hair, pale eyebrows, and protuberant grey eyes. She had a wand stuck behind her left ear and a necklace of bottle caps around her neck. In her hand was a battered magazine called _The Quibbler_, which had a badly drawn cartoon of a man wearing a green bowler hat on the cover. He caught Sirius Black's name listed on the page before his attention was stolen by Lovegood's voice.

"You are a Japanese foreigner," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "You also have white hair."

"Yes, I am and I do," he agreed.

"You know, Blibbering Humdingers can be quite vicious to those who have interesting eyes." She opened her magazine and turned it over. "Yours is an interesting shade of green."

". . . Thank you?" He had no idea what a Blibbering Humdinger was, but he had a feeling Lovegood was quite serious about it. And . . . why was she reading that upside down?

The sound of rustling papers filled the compartment for a few seconds. She stopped at a certain article and, after reading for a while, said, "Wow, I never knew Sirius Black was actually Stubby Boardman."

That caught his interest. "Really?"

She nodded. "Doris Purkiss made a good point."

"May I read that?"

She looked unusually happy at his request. He skimmed the article, finding it interesting (and just a little bit laughable). He quickly flipped through the pages, glancing at each of the article headings and moving pictures before eventually concluding that _The Quibbler_ was a very strange magazine. Was this what all wizard publications were like?

"How was it?" she asked when he handed it back.

"It was very interesting," he said truthfully. She beamed.

They both heard voices outside the door. It slid open, revealing a redheaded girl that must've been a Weasley – Ginevra Weasley. "Hey, Luna, is it okay if we take these seats?"

Lovegood nodded.

Weasley was followed by a nervous-looking boy and . . .

Harry Potter.

Toushirou sighed internally.

They took their seats, and it was a moment before Potter recognized the Shinigami. "It's you!"

"It's me," Toushirou said dryly.

"Um, Toushirou Hitsugaya, right?"

"Yes."

"You're the one who saved Harry from the car?" Weasley leaned in.

"Yes," he replied, getting a bit annoyed now.

"And the one who had a Transfiguration accident?"

"_Yes._"

"Oh." She pulled back, sensing that he wasn't in the mood for talking, and the three new arrivals started making small talk with Lovegood. "So, Luna, had a good summer?"

Toushirou buried his face in his arms again after he found out that the other boy's name was Neville Longbottom (what an unfortunate name). He made it clear that he wasn't interested in idle chatter.

"It's got an amazing defence mechanism. Here, hold Trevor for me . . ."

The Captain was in a state between consciousness and sleep, so he was slow to react when the cactus Longbottom had brought spewed slimy liquid all over the compartment. Luckily, his small build and the fact that he had his head down at the time prevented him from taking the full blast of the substance. Several drops clung to tips of his white spikes, as well as the back of his head.

Toushirou lifted his head slowly, his nose crinkling at the smell. Lovegood was safely behind her magazine, and Weasley had thrown her arms up just in time. Potter and Longbottom weren't so lucky. They both got a face full of slime. Yuck.

He sighed once more. _Everything was fine before these three came in . . ._ He took out his wand and muttered, "_Scourgify_." The slime on the compartment vanished. He really had to thank Black for teaching him that spell. Longbottom stuttered, saying something about having not seen that before. Toushirou sent him a dirty glare before leaning his head on the wall and deciding that no, he will not get peace during the train ride. _At least I got to test that spell . . . It'll be crucial for when I return to the Division. _He pushed away all thoughts concerning Matsumoto and the Division. _Don't stress yourself about her yet . . . Save that for the end of the school year . . ._

The door slid open, and an Asian girl with straight black hair peered through the opening. She asked for Harry Potter, who happily stood up and exited the compartment. _One less kid to worry about._

He snorted. _With my luck, more will take his place._

How right he was.

An hour and many pumpkin pasties and Chocolate Frogs later, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger turned up, asking for Potter. Ginevra Weasley (_two Weasleys in a room,_ he thought. _How am I supposed to address them?_) told them in a slightly jealous tone of voice that Potter had left with Cho Chang a while ago.

"Whatever," Ronald Weasley said, slumping into the seat beside Toushirou. "I'm starving." He stole a Chocolate Frog from Ginevra Weasley, ignoring her protests. "Relax, it's only one." He pointed at Toushirou's leaning figure. "Who's the bloke?"

"Ron," Granger chided, "don't be rude!" She looked over at the first year feigning sleep. "I'm Hermione Granger, Gryffindor prefect. Are you a first year?"

"Yes," Toushirou mumbled, opening his eyelids. _Remember English manners . . . the proper way to address an elder person is to add the prefix 'Miss ' or 'Mister,' I believe._ "Nice to meet you, Ms. Granger." _I can't believe I just said that; I'm two centuries older, dammit!_ "I'm Toushirou Hitsugaya, first year."

Granger laughed, a little red in the face. "Call me Hermione . . . Your name sounds Japanese . . . Wait." She sat up, her eyes fixed on his hair. "You're that boy who saved Harry!"

He sighed. "It's no big deal . . ."

Ronald Weasley slapped him on the back. "You saved the life of the Boy Who Lived! How can that be 'no big deal?'"

"From what I heard, his life kept getting saved every year," he muttered to himself.

"So, Toushirou, you're from Japan?" Granger asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"Why're you going to Hogwarts then?" Ronald Weasley questioned. "I'm pretty sure there's – " He cut himself off. Granger was shaking her head furiously, glaring at him. "What are you – oh, _oh!_" He turned back to Toushirou. "Um, so, how's the weather?"

The Shinigami fought back a smile. "The weather's great."

"Yeah . . . Say, is your hair natural?"

Thankfully, Ronald Weasley was (unknowingly) saved from a frozen death by the timely arrival of one Harry Potter. He smiled at all the people in the compartment and slid into the seat beside Ginevra Weasley. He took the last Chocolate Frog on the table and said to Granger, "I saw Pansy Parkinson and Malfoy terrorizing some Hufflepuff second years. Any idea what that's about?"

Granger snorted. "Abuse of power. They're the Slytherin prefects."

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott are for Hufflepuff; and Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," Ronald Weasley said.

The rest of the train ride was spent in friendly chatter. The occupants of the compartment asked (interrogated) Toushirou on his life, with him managing to answer in half-truths or not at all. They really were a nosy bunch. Potter, Granger and the two Weasleys avoided questions about his parents, while Luna kept peppering him bizarre comments such as, "Have you ever seen a Moon Frog?" and "Beware of Nargles; I smell a little mistletoe on you." The four others were stifling their giggles when she did so. At one point, they took turns insulting Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Draco Malfoy after the three Slytherins invaded their compartments and disrupted the sociable atmosphere.

When Toushirou first laid eyes on Draco Malfoy, the first thought he had was: _snobbish noble_. He had met his share of nobles during his time as a Captain, and about half of them gave off the exact air Malfoy had. He never liked those kinds of nobles. Being from Rukongai, they looked down on him, deeming his blood too _dirty_ to hold his prestigious position. He much preferred those like Ukitake and Kyouraku, who didn't flaunt their statuses every chance they got.

"What're you doing here?" Potter had said, hostility lacing his voice.

"Manners, or I'll have to give you a detention," the blond boy drawled. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

They all snickered. _Nice comeback._

Malfoy noticed him. "Tell me, Potter, have you stooped so low as to hang out with white-haired first year midgets now? Not that it makes much difference, seeing as Loony Lovegood is apparently infesting your compartment."

Toushirou scowled and glared at the Slytherin dangerously. The temperature dropped ("Damn Freezing Charms," Ronald Weasley muttered).

_**Shall I freeze him?**_ Hyourinmaru rumbled in his mind, uncoiling himself from his deep sleep.

_. . . No, not yet._

"_Freaks,_" Malfoy enunciated, _"all of you."_

"Bugger off," Ronald Weasley growled. "No one wants you here – or anywhere, for that matter."

He turned his nose up at the Weasley. "I don't take orders from animals."

_**Grr . . .**_

Toushirou sent a beam of cold, concentrated spiritual pressure at the stuck-up wizard. With a high-pitched yelp, he flew back, hurtling into his bodyguards and crashing into the opposite wall – hard. The three of them were covered in frost and bits of ice, attracting onlookers from passengers who happened to be walking through the corridors. Three Gryffindor students – two of them identical – snuck a look from their compartment and sniggered audibly when they saw the three mini snowmen. One of the identical boys produced a camera and snapped a shot of the Slytherins. After that, they high-fived each other and went back to their seats.

Malfoy, red-faced (not that anyone could see it), pushed away from the two goons and snarled at Potter, "Watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be _dogging_ your footsteps in case you step out of line." He stalked away, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to haul themselves up and lumber away from their view.

Granger quickly closed the door and hunched back into her seat. She glared half-heartedly at her companions (yet everyone could see the spark of mirth in her eyes). "Who did that?"

Ronald Weasley cackled. "Not me, but I'll be willing to take credit for it."

"Ron!"

* * *

The Hogwarts Express grounded to a halt.

It was dark, and the Scottish autumn air bit his cheeks as he shuffled along with the younger students, heading for the female voice shouting, "First years line up over here, please! All first years come to me!"

The woman – whose name was Professor Grubbly-Plank, he later found out – escorted the crowd of students to the lake, where a fleet of small boats bobbed up and down with the waves. Toushirou boarded one with a few edgy boys, all of whom were nervously gawking at the lake.

"I heard there's a giant squid in there . . ."

"My brother told me it once ate a first year . . ."

"My cousin said it was the size of Hogwarts itself!"

Toushirou touched the surface of the murky water. He jerked back when he felt something _slimy_ caress his fingers. He leaned over the boat and saw a pair of glowing yellow orbs looking back at him. It grinned, flashing a set of broken teeth before swimming away.

Finally, they docked at Hogwarts. The professor waited until they all got off the boats before leading them into a small room where they were instructed to await the Sorting. Toushirou stood in the corner, away from the other first years. He seethed when he noticed that all of them were taller than him. _Damn Europeans, they're too tall for their own good._

Hyourinmaru let out a chuckle. _**You'll grow.**_

_When?_

_**In a few centuries.**_

_I hate you._

_**I love you, too.**_

A pink mouse scurried up to the wall beside him and, amazingly, scampered up the smooth stone barriers. He gaped as it reached the ceiling and continued running away from what looked like a yellow spider with a tail.

"Excuse me," a girl in pigtails panted, stopping in front of him, "have you seen a pink mouse?"

He pointed at the ceiling. She looked up and released an impressive squeak. "I . . . I didn't know she could do that . . ."

He was distracted by the sound of Minerva McGonagall's footsteps, who then proceeded to lead them into the Great Hall. He followed the students' lead and stared in wonder at when they entered the Great Hall. Four long tables took up the majority of the room; all of them were already populated by older students. Another table was situated at the front, accommodating the professors of Hogwarts. Toushirou recognized a few of them. Dumbledore was smiling kindly at all of his students. Snape was sitting at his seat, looking on with impassive black eyes.

Toushirou and the first years lined up in front of the staff table. McGonagall placed a battered-looking hat on top of a stool and stepped back, staring at it intently with the rest of the students and professors.

Everyone was quiet.

Except for the hat.

Which started_ singing._

_In times of old, when I was new,  
And Hogwarts barely started,  
The founders of our noble school  
Thought never to be parted._

_United by a common goal,_  
_They had the selfsame yearning_  
_To make the world's best magic school_  
_And pass along their learning._

_"Together we will build and teach"_  
_The four good friends decided._  
_And never did they dream that they_  
_Might some day be divided._

_For were there such friends anywhere_  
_As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_  
_Unless it was the second pair_  
_Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,_

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_  
_How could such friendships fail?_  
_Why, I was there, so I can tell_  
_The whole sad, sorry tale._

_Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those_  
_Whose ancestry's purest."_  
_Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose_  
_Intelligence is surest."_

_Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those_  
_With brave deeds to their name."_  
_Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot_  
_And treat them just the same."_

_These differences caused little strife_  
_When first they came to light._  
_For each of the four founders had_  
_A house in which they might_

_Take only those they wanted, so,_  
_For instance, Slytherin_  
_Took only pure-blood wizards_  
_Of great cunning just like him._

_And only those of sharpest mind_  
_Were taught by Ravenclaw_  
_While the bravest and the boldest_  
_Went to daring Gryffindor._

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest  
and taught them all she knew,  
Thus, the houses and their founders  
Maintained friendships firm and true._

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony_  
_for several happy years,_  
_but then discord crept among us_  
_feeding on our faults and fears._

_The Houses that, like pillars four_  
_had once held up our school_  
_now turned upon each other and_  
_divided, sought to rule._

_And for a while it seemed the school_  
_must meet an early end._  
_what with dueling and with fighting_  
_and the clash of friend on friend._

_And at last there came a morning_  
_when old Slytherin departed_  
_and though the fighting then died out_  
_he left us quite downhearted._

_And never since the founders four_  
_were whittled down to three_  
_have the Houses been united_  
_as they once were meant to be._

_And now the Sorting Hat is here_  
_and you all know the score:_  
_I sort you into Houses_  
_because that is what I'm for._

_But this year I'll go further,_  
_listen closely to my song:_  
_though condemned I am to split you_  
_still I worry that it's wrong,_

_Though I must fulfill my duty_  
_and must quarter every year_  
_still I wonder whether sorting_  
_may not bring the end I fear._

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_  
_the warning history shows,_  
_for our Hogwarts is in danger_  
_from external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_  
_or we'll crumble from within_  
_I have told you, I have warned you . . ._  
_let the Sorting now begin._

_. . . What the hell?_

The Great Hall applauded. Toushirou automatically joined in, still processing that _that hat_ had just _sung_ a _song_. He noticed several of the students looking at each other uncertainly and whispering to themselves. He replayed the song in his mind, not noticing when McGonagall called out the first name on her parchment.

"Abercrombie, Euan."

_Those last few stanzas sounded like a warning,_ he thought. _The Hat didn't sound like he agreed to separate the students into the four Houses. I've heard of the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin; if the Hat wants them to unite, then we're all doomed . . . But what are these 'external, deadly foes?'_

"Hitsugaya, Toushirou."

The Captain shook himself from his thoughts and approached the Hat. _Matsumoto would love to have one of these,_ he reflected. _Speaking of which, I hope she hasn't burned down my office . . ._ He put the Hat on his head, feeling silly as he did so. _I have a big singing hat on my head. How is that not ridiculous?_

As soon as the Hat touched his head, he felt an otherworldly presence probe his mind. Instinctively, he expelled it from his consciousness and assembled barriers around his inner world. Hyourinmaru roused himself from a nap and said, _**What was that?**_

_I don't know._

"_Do not worry, young one," _said a mysterious voice._ "It's just me."_

_Who are you?_

"_I am the Sorting Hat,"_ it explained patiently. _"I don't know how you were able to banish me from your thoughts, but I do need to sift through your memories to Sort you into a House."_

_I can't allow you to do that, _Toushirou replied.

"_Don't worry,"_ the Hat chuckled, _"whatever secrets you have are safe with me. I am not allowed to talk about what I see."_

_. . . What do you think, Hyourinmaru?_

_**I sense he is telling the truth,**_ said the dragon.

_. . . Alright,_ he relented. _Be careful, Hat. What you see is for your, um, eyes only._

"_I'll keep that in mind,"_ it said amusedly. The Hat dove into the opening the Shinigami had allowed and started going through his two hundred years' worth of memories. Toushirou could feel it studying his time as a Shinigami, as well as a student in the Academy, and the childhood he had. He cringed when it examined what little memory he had left of how he died. Finally, after what seemed like a millennium (but actually ten minutes), the Hat pulled back and remained silent for a moment. _"Well, that was certainly an interesting experience."_

Toushirou said nothing.

"_A Soul Reaper,"_ it continued, _"I have never had the honour of sorting a Soul Reaper – never mind a Captain. You have led quite an eventful life, Captain. I saw all four traits of the Houses within you: courage and bravery most suitable for Gryffindor; ambition and cunningness that point to Slytherin; wit and intelligence worthy of Ravenclaw; and hard work and loyalty befitting of Hufflepuff. Tell me, do you have any preference?"_

_No._

"_Very well . . . You are very proud of your intelligence, hm? Your thirst for knowledge was what led you to become what you are now. Therefore, I shall Sort you into the House of RAVENCLAW!"_ it shouted out the last word.

Toushirou took off the Hat as the Ravenclaw table burst into cheers. The other tables were looking at each other, asking themselves why the weird white-haired boy took so long, but he ignored it. He took a seat beside Luna Lovegood, who was smiling and waving at him.

"Hello, Toushirou. I'm so glad you got sorted into Ravenclaw," she said sincerely. "It is a nice House, isn't it? _Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure._"

He agreed, and then sat back to watch the rest of the Sorting.

"Zeller, Rose."

"Hufflepuff!"

Once the last student had been Sorted, Dumbledore stood up and proclaimed, "To our newcomers – welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speechmaking, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

The students cheered and commenced piling heaps of food onto their plates. Toushirou was disappointed to see no Japanese dishes, so he settled for mashed potatoes and some steamed vegetables.

Someone tapped him in the shoulder. "Excuse me," a brown-haired boy said, "you're a first year, right?"

He nodded.

"Oh, good," he said, relieved. "I'm Ethan Harris."

Toushirou spent the entire evening eating and making small talk with Luna Lovegood and Ethan Harris. Harris's reactions to Lovegood's strange claims were enough to make him laugh (on the inside). Dessert rolled in, and he feasted on loads and loads of watermelons. He didn't care about the looks he received from other students, he hadn't eaten the fruit in _months_ and _damn them_ if they think that could stop him.

"Hello there. Welcome to Hogwarts," said a female voice.

Toushirou turned and blinked. There was a tall, beautiful woman with long black hair wearing a floor-length cloak behind him. She appeared to be a noble, but held herself in a tranquil manner.

And she was _see-through._

So, she was one of the ghosts _Hogwarts: A History_ talked about.

He remembered what Yamamoto had told him: _"Please leave the ghosts alone."_

"I am the Grey Lady," she said. "The Ghost of Ravenclaw House." She fixed her suddenly narrowed eyes on Toushirou.

"I'm Toushirou Hitsugaya," he introduced himself.

"I'm Ethan Harris."

"Nice to meet you two. Make Rowena Ravenclaw proud . . ." Her attention was caught by two fifth years arguing with a Slytherin sixth year. She drifted away.

Toushirou went back to his watermelons.

He was smiling contentedly to himself by the time Dumbledore's speeches came about. He listened with the others as the Headmaster droned on about the Forbidden Forest, Filch's list, and the staff changes.

"Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the – "

"_Hem, hem."_

Dumbledore broke off and looked enquiringly at the new Professor, Dolores Umbridge. After a brief staring contest, he sat down and let Umbridge speak.

The toad-like woman smiled sickeningly and said, "Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome."

Toushirou winced as soon as the first word came out of the Professor's mouth. It was high-pitched and girly and _he wanted to rip out her throat by the time the second word came around._ For the first time, Toushirou forced himself to truly scrutinize the abomination before him. Dolores Umbridge was short, with mousy brown hair and bulging eyes. She wore an all-pink outfit – complete with a hideous fuzzy pink cardigan that would have killed Matsumoto and Yumichika Ayasegawa if they ever laid eyes on it. Gaudy rings decorated her stubby fingers, creating the impression of a frog's round fingertips.

God, he regretted looking at her. _And_ I_ looked like a freak?_

Umbridge continued her speech (or whatever it was), "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

The rest of her speech consisted of pointless words that really just amounted to, "_The Ministry of Magic is prying into Hogwarts business, so just sit back and watch as I destroy your education and make sure you will all never be prepared to defend against any evils that might lurk outside the school grounds!"_

". . . Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

Dumbledore clapped, and the rest of the staff reluctantly followed his lead. The students shook themselves out of their daze, but before they could clap, Dumbledore stood up and said, "Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating." He bowed to her, which made Toushirou roll his eyes. _Really, there's no need to bow to that frog._ "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ."

Toushirou listened to the rest of Dumbledore's speech much more intently than he had with Umbridge's. After Dumbledore had dismissed them, Toushirou followed the Ravenclaw prefects – Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil – upstairs to the Ravenclaw Tower.

"To get inside," Patil explained, "you need to answer the riddle." She turned to the eagle knocker.

It said:

_Lighter than what I am made of  
More of me is hidden than seen  
I am the bane of the mariner  
A tooth within the sea  
Speak my name._

The Ravenclaws muttered to themselves. Toushirou thought it over and smiled to himself.

"Anyone?" asked Goldstein.

"Ice," he whispered to himself, just as another boy shouted out the same answer.

The door swung open.

Toushirou looked around the airy common room as he stepped in. It was wide and circular. Blue and bronze silk drapes hung over the arched windows lining the walls. The domed, starry ceiling looked down on the dark blue carpet. Tables and armchairs furnished the room, ready to be used along with the huge bookcases pushed to the side. A white marble statue stood by the door leading up to the dormitories. Overall, it was cool and spacious, like a library.

Which reminded him to visit the school library soon.

"Boys, follow me to your dormitories," Goldstein called. Patil did the same with the girls.

The prefect led them up the stairs and into the room they will all be sharing. Inside, there were simple beds lined up against the walls. Windows let in some light from the moon, and the drapes billowed out in the gentle breeze.

Their trunks were already situated in the foot of their beds. Goldstein told them to find their beds and bid them goodnight.

Toushirou found his bed beside one of the open windows. It was comfortably cool, and was the perfect place for any Shinigami to sneak in and deliver him messages from the Captain-Commander. He immediately changed to his pyjamas and reached for his trunk. He picked up _Defensive Magical Theory_, snorted, and then shoved it in the bottom. _No way in hell am I going to read that._ Luckily, he prepared for that. He reached for _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ and opened to the first chapter.

The other Ravenclaws had also pulled out their own books and were reading in their beds. The dormitory was silent, except for the rustle of papers and the soft breathing of children.

He had finished reading about the Curse of Bogies (useless), Green Sparks (even more useless; it will just catch the enemies' attentions), and the Knockback Jinx (not as useless, but still pretty futile when facing a Dark Wizard) by the time it was lights out.

When the room's lights were snuffed out, he sunk deep into his comforter and sneaked a few pieces of parchment and a quill under the covers. He closed his eyes and waited a couple of hours before pulling his wand under his pillow. He poured a miniscule amount of his spiritual pressure into his wand and whispered, "_Lumos._" A weak light lit the tip of his wand, and he cupped his hand around it, making sure none of the brightness escaped his comforter. He set it down and started writing a report.

It was past midnight by the time he finished filling out the parchments. He had to write about his time in the wizarding world – all two months of it. He now regretted putting it off until tonight. _And I thought I got rid of my procrastination habits._ He sighed. Being in a school environment just seemed to bring everything back. He pulled back the covers and stuffed the papers into a large envelope. He addressed it to Yamamoto and signed his own name and rank underneath, making sure to write it in kanji.

Toushirou left the envelope on floor beside his bed and went to sleep, knowing that someone of the Onmitsukidou will arrive and deliver it to Yamamoto.

* * *

**EXTRA DISCLAIMER: Any riddles mentioned from this moment on are not mine.**

**Thank you all for waiting! I originally planned to cut it off _right_ before the Sorting Hat shouted out Toushirou's House (like, cut it off when the Hat says, "Very well . . ."), but I thought you guys deserved a longer-than-usual chapter for being so patient.  
Shout-outs to 3Alaska3 and SimplyFalling211 for motivating me to write this chapter. If it weren't for them, you all would probably still be waiting for another month.**

**For the Queen scene (rhyme~), there is a reason I put that there. I took care to avoid any real names; that would be against the rules (no non-ficitional characters!).**

**BETA POSITION IS OPEN. I can't use Beta search because I want someone who actually reads HPxBleach crossovers (and I'm not sure if that can be found in Beta profiles), who has a good grasp of the English language, and someone who enjoys this story and is ready for a long ride because there will be a sequel. Oh, and someone who is not afraid to criticize, point out mistakes, and make suggestions. I'm fine editing this on my own, but sometimes I miss a spelling error here and there, and sometimes I get writer's block.  
Yeah, I'm picky . . .**

**Another long author's note :P Thanks for bearing with me.**

**LAST THING - PLEASE ANSWER THIS QUESTION IN YOUR REVIEW:  
Which letter do you like better: X or Z?**


	4. Get Ready, Little Shinigami

**Disclaimer: Bleach and Harry Potter belongs to Tite Kubo and JK Rowling respectively. Also, any small references to Septimus Heap and Percy Jackson and the Olympians are not mine. Well, the way in which the references were used are mine, but the characters and ideas ingrained within aren't. Oh, and the first riddle mentioned belongs to lilyrosa143 (or if it doesn't belong to her, then it belongs to whoever first invented it).**

**Huge thanks to my two awesome betas: SimplyFalling211 and The Awesome God Apollo. You rock!**

**IMPORTANT (kind of): The title of the sequel has been decided! It's called "The War of Thirteen Winters." Unless someting drastic happens in White Magic that I hadn't planned for, that title is official.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Get Ready, Little Shinigami**

* * *

The early dawn radiance streamed through the window, landing on the closed eyes of one Toushirou Hitsugaya. Teal eyes opened and squinted against the glare of the sunlight. He turned over and tried to get some more sleep. However, his deeply-ingrained habits kicked in and prevented him from snoozing any longer. He groaned quietly and sat up. Outside, it was only sunrise and the rest of his fellow first years were still softly snoring in their beds. From the next bed over, Ethan Harris muttered something about demon hats then fell silent.

Deciding that he didn't want to break his habit of getting up early, he leaned over the foot of his bed and opened his trunk. He picked up a set of clothes (since when did it have blue on them?), fixed his bed and went to take a cold shower.

Fifteen minutes later Toushirou was sitting in the Ravenclaw common room and reading an ancient book he borrowed from one of the numerous bookcases called _A Compilation of Magykal Creatures That Live in the Marshes and Other Wet Environments _by Zelda the White Witch_._ It was about six-thirty, so he had around an hour until breakfast.

_If handled properly, Boggarts can become quite tame and useful – especially for guarding important sites. For example, a small cottage in the middle of a bog that actually contains several passageways to important locations – like a Queen's room – and housing an important wizard apprentice and a princess who are in danger of being attacked by a Darke Wizard . . ._

Half an hour later, a few older students began to trickle down and made a beeline for the remaining chairs. They sat there, going over last-minute summer homework assignments and practicing Charms. Once, Toushirou had to duck slightly to avoid getting speared in the head by a flying quill; it was then when he chose to go down for breakfast early lest he get stabbed by a writing utensil somewhere more embarrassing. He returned the book to its previous niche and exited the common room.

He steadily made his way down the staircase, avoiding the trick steps and trying to remember how to get to the Great Hall at the same time. At the bottom, he turned left and followed two tall brunettes and eventually ended up in the Great Hall. There were only a few students at this hour and none of the Professors were present – which meant no Umbridge to spoil everyone's breakfast . . . yet. He took a seat at end of the table and grabbed some toast for himself. The buttery bread beckoned his tongue, so he kept an eye on the doors while chewing on his food.

More people were arriving, mostly in groups of threes or fours. The expressions from their faces ranged from bright and happy to sleepy and lethargic. A Hufflepuff who still had his eyes closed almost tripped over his own robes, and had to be steadied by his companion – who looked quite happy to do so.

Toushirou averted his eyes and turned back to his half-eaten breakfast. He poured a glass of juice and sipped it in between a bite of toast – and promptly gagged it down. He had nothing against pumpkin juice, but he didn't like sweet things in the mornings. Scratch that, he didn't like sweet things _period._

A loud yawn was heard from his right. "Morning." Ethan Harris nodded at him. His hair was dishevelled and his uniform was somewhat crooked. Harris leaned over for a plate of pancakes and said, "I should be excited, but I'm not. Too tired." He yawned again. "It's still too early . . ."

"It's seven-fifty in the morning," Toushirou pointed out.

"Yeah, but I don't usually get up until, like, eight. Ten minutes of sleep can make a lot of difference," he added, seeing the frown on the other's face. "Have we got our timetables yet?"

He shook his head.

"Oh. So, which class do you think you'll like the most?"

Toushirou shrugged. "They all sound interesting enough."

"I heard Potions is horrible, though. They say Professor Snape favours Slytherins." Harris frowned worriedly. "Do you think that'll affect my grade?"

"I don't know, Harris," he murmured.

"I told you, call me Ethan."

He was about to object that they weren't close enough to start calling each other by their given names when he remembered English etiquette. _Addressing someone by their first names is common and expected._ "O-okay . . . Ethan." He winced on the inside. He very rarely called someone by their first names. His childhood friend Hinamori had only ever heard him say her given name exactly five times in their lives; his grandmother was always "Granny" to him; and he never called his Lieutenant anything other than Matsumoto.

Then there was his former Captain – he insisted on being called by either his first name or _Dad_ _("We're like a family! Family doesn't call each other by their last names! Right, Shirou-kun?")._ Toushirou had settled with calling him "Captain." Come to think of it, he never did find out his last name before he aband –

No. He would _not_ go there.

His point was: calling someone he barely knew by his given name felt . . . wrong. And quite a bit rude.

Despite his hidden discomfort, the two spent most of breakfast talking about their expectations for the day. Toushirou learned that Harris was excited for Charms and Transfiguration, while he absolutely dreaded going to Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harris was originally eager for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but after seeing Umbridge last night, his expectations had been cruelly shot down, dumped in a muddy ditch and trampled under fifty centaurs in prom dresses.

Later into their meals, Professor Filius Flitwick approached them and handed them their timetables.

"What do we have today?" Harris asked.

Toushirou looked at the piece of parchment. "History of Magic, Charms, double Potions, and then Flying."

He moaned. "Double Snape? On our first day? No . . ." He banged an imaginary head on the table before trying to be optimistic. "At least we're not Gryffindors! Professor Snape _hates_ Gryffindors!"

"Prejudicial views are never good," he muttered. So far, no one had picked on him because of his less-than-normal looks. A few comments and questions regarding his hair were spoken, but other than that everyone seemed to think that he was probably hit by some kind of Jinx earlier in life.

"Don't worry strange hair isn't all that rare," one Ravenclaw sixth year had said. "A few years back, there was a student who had natural _blue_ hair. _Blue. _He got hit by a Colour-Change Charm on his fourth year."

"You have the same schedule as mine?" Harris asked.

"Yes."

"Cool." Harris played with what was left of his breakfast. He made faces out of maple syrup as he said, "I wouldn't mind Charms. Professor Flitwick is teaching, so we should be okay. I overheard Rose Zeller saying that the Professor for History of Magic is a really boring ghost." He stabbed a soggy piece of pancake and started squishing it into mush while Toushirou watched with mild revulsion. Harris continued, not noticing his friend's discomfort. "He puts even the smartest Ravenclaws to sleep. Ravenclaws are, like, the brain of Hogwarts, so he must be _really_ boring to have that ability." He slopped some syrup on top of the light brown mush and admired his work. "Looks kind of like Mount Fuji doesn't it?"

Toushirou pointedly looked away. "Perhaps. If Mount Fuji suddenly became an active volcano and spat out maple syrup." As he told Harris his opinion, he caught Potter's eye over in the Gryffindor table. The Boy Who Lived nodded at him and resumed whatever conversation he was having with Granger and Weasley.

The Shinigami turned back to Harris and a wave of relief washed over him as Harris pushed away his plate of "Mount Fuji" and stood up. He really couldn't stand the sight of the pulp he called _food. _He also wasn't sure whether to be offended or not_._ "C'mon, let's get our stuff. I wanna try that riddling door again."

The two headed back to the Ravenclaw tower and paused before the door. It said:

_What does man value more than life,  
but fear more than death and mortal strife?  
What the poor have and the rich require,  
and what contented men desire.  
What the miser spends and the spendthrift saves,  
and all men carry to their graves._

"Nothing," they chorused. The door swung open. Together, they climbed up the stairs and entered their dorm. Toushirou took out his copies of _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot and _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade One)_ by Miranda Goshawk. He had already read through both of them last month; _A History of Magic_ took some effort to actually finish, though. He had always liked history, but some of the information stored between the pages was utterly useless. _How important is knowledge about the invention of cauldrons to these people?_

"Merlin!" Harris's voice sounded panicked. "I can't find my books!" He was hunched over his trunk, frantically rummaging through his belongings. "Toushirou, help me!"

He cleared his throat, caught his attention, and pointed at Harris's bedside table. Harris followed his finger and laughed sheepishly. Perched on top of the surface was a neat stack of textbooks in alphabetical order. "Oh." He quickly gathered his supplies, dumped it in a book bag, and then glanced at Toushirou quizzically. "You're just going to carry all that stuff? Where's your bag?"

He didn't answer. He wasn't about to admit that he hadn't thought of buying a bag for his supplies. Since he never really needed to have a bag in the Academy – all he carried was a book on Kidou and his Zanpakutou; writing utensils were provided by the Academy – he had forgotten about the extremely useful human invention called a bag while in Diagon Alley.

Harris coughed and shifted his feet, breaking the awkward silence. "Um, okay, you seem to like holding it like that . . . Let's go." He hurriedly made for the door.

Toushirou stared at his retreating back with an unreadable expression on his face. He looked down at the load textbooks and quills and berated himself. _You saw the supply list; you knew how many books you were carry. Why the hell did you forget to buy a damn bag?_ After a moment of stewing in his stupidity, he followed.

* * *

He sat beside Harris on his first class: History of Magic.

There were already a number of Hufflepuffs and in the room. They had chosen a seat in the middle row, right in front of two chatty girls. Their incessant voices didn't fail to irritate the Captain. He glanced at Harris, but the boy was blissfully unaware of the gossip behind him. He was reciting random bits of information from the book.

_I am surrounded by three Matsumotos,_ he thought. _And one of them is actually saying something _useful.

Harris continued on his narration about Ulric the Oddball. "He was best known for wearing a jellyfish for a hat . . ."

The rest of the class filtered in. They were all waiting for Professor Binns.

Toushirou let his gaze float to the window. It was sunny, with very little clouds hanging in the sky. A few kids were loitering outside. _Are those fireworks . . . ?_ Then, he felt a spiritual pressure approach the room . . . from behind the board? It was strange, yet familiar. Similar to the spiritual pressure he had felt when he briefly conversed with the Grey Lady. _It's probably the ghost Harris mentioned._

Sure enough, a white blur phased through the blackboard and hovered in front of the class. Professor Binns was ancient; he bore a striking resemblance to a wrinkled and bespectacled old tortoise in a suit. He ran his eyes over the class once before starting his lesson.

It was . . . tiresome, to put it lightly. Toushirou listened and took notes like the good little student he was, but more than half of his attention was spent daydreaming about the war – more specifically, Aizen getting stabbed through the chest. He wasn't as bored as the rest of the class; he had long ago perfected the art of listening while not listening. It was an important skill to have during Captains' meetings, where most of the business conducted was either boring, useless or both. Of course, some (like Kyouraku) preferred mastery over sleeping with his eyes open . . . His former Captain did that a lot, actually . . .

"Oi!"

His trance was broken by Harris's voice. He blinked at the boy and noticed the other children packing their things with thankful expressions on their faces.

"Class is over," Harris said while grimacing, "and I had no idea what it was about." He showed him his notes, which consisted of four sentences about the oddness of Ulric the Oddball.

He looked at his own notes and was relieved to see it filled out in detail. He stood up, gathered his books and strode out the door with his companion in tow. "Read the textbook. I am positive it's all covered there."

"Okay," he replied doubtfully.

Next, they had Charms. Toushirou sat beside Harris and a talkative Slytherin brunette who used way too much perfume. The brunette's perfume and Harris's natter about the Softening Charm annoyed (and disgusted, in the brunette's case) him, so he tuned them out, tried to breathe through his mouth, and focused on reading his textbook. The textbook was closed with an audible thump when Flitwick came into the room.

When he first met Flitwick, he was extremely pleased to see that he would not be the shortest person in the classroom. The Professor was short. Very short. So short, he had to stand on a pile of textbooks to see over his desk. He started with a roll call and proceeded to lecture them about his expectations in his class, the types of Charms they would be learning, and finishing off the lesson with him Charming a pair of quills to ballroom dance.

At least it wasn't as boring as History of Magic.

* * *

_Lunch was an interesting affair,_ Toushirou thought while stepping over a false step.

Everyone had converged on the Great Hall at the same time, and were mostly in good spirits after their first half of the day. The few Ravenclaws (along with some Gryffindors) who had double Defence Against the Dark Arts seemed very depressed, though. They kept moaning about how they wouldn't have proper education this time – again. In a brainless attempt to cheer them up, a certain redheaded Gryffindor tried to make a piece of chicken pot pie hop around the table. Key word: _tried._ The spell went wrong and the pie was sent flying into the face of a fifth year Ravenclaw – who retaliated by launching the contents of a big pitcher of pumpkin juice in their direction. Drops of the sticky, sweet liquid rained down on the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins as the container of juice sailed over their heads.

Toushirou had seen what was coming when the first bowl of mashed potatoes was thrown and quickly escaped the room. He assumed the Professors would handle it, but Dumbledore had looked ominously amused. He didn't want to take that chance. Harris had refused to leave and opted to watch (and possibly participate) in the rapidly growing food fight.

That was why Toushirou now found himself on his way to the common room and cleaning the drops of pumpkin juice off his uniform with his wand. The Captain didn't blame the students – really, he didn't. Those children looked awfully depressed, but couldn't they have cheered them up with something that didn't involve those who weren't depressed – or more specifically, _him?_ He knocked on the door and waited for the riddle. The riddle was a clever security system, but the only drawback was that any enemy could enter the common room as long as they were smart enough.

_There was a round green house.  
Inside the green house, there was a white house.  
Inside the white house, there was a red house.  
Inside the red house, there were lots of babies.  
What is it?_

The Captain paused, and then smiled. _A round house . . . _"It's a watermelon."

He stepped through the open door and headed for his room. He found his copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions _and decided to wander around a bit. There was still half an hour of lunch left, and it wouldn't hurt to explore the castle. He went to the common room and was just about to open the door when he felt the alarming spiritual pressure of an Arrancar.

His load was flung into an armchair before the Shinigami Flash Stepped outside as fast as he could. He felt for the area around the Arrancar and was distressed by another weaker spark of spiritual pressure – a student. He sped up.

Toushirou arrived at the Quidditch pitch in a cloud of dust and frantically scanned the field.

No Arrancar.

But there was a student – who looked at him in surprise. "How – what – "

Toushirou snarled and then took out the Kikanshinki he always kept in his pockets. He pointed it at the boy, who was now watching him with wide eyes. "What are – ?"

The Shinigami pressed the button and released the gas that would modify his memories, all the while berating himself for his stupidity – again. He carried the unconscious boy to the stands and dumped him unceremoniously on a seat. He quickly got the hell out of there and back to the castle. He guessed fifteen minutes had passed, which left him plenty of time to collect his things and get to class. The wind slapped his face as he inconspicuously Flash Stepped in the air and entered the tower through his dorm's window. Going into the common room, he gathered his abandoned books and quills (which were, thankfully, untouched) and walked very fast to the Potions classroom.

"Potions classroom" – he found out – was a less intimidating way to say "dungeons." He was pleased to discover that the dungeons had a pleasantly cool temperature. There was a distinct earthy smell lingering in the room. That, along with the less-than-blinding lighting made him feel like he was standing in the middle of a forest.

"There you are." A hand planted itself on his shoulder, and Toushirou had to restrain the urge to flip the offender over his head and fire a Hadou spell. He turned his head and gave Harris a dirty look, which was ignored. "I looked for you in the common room – your stuff was there, by the way – but you weren't there. Then, there was this kid running around telling people he was attacked by a giant Erkling – which is an oxymoron. Gotta love oxymorons!" He stopped and dragged the white-haired student to the seats Harris had saved.

"You look clean," Toushirou noted. Indeed, his clothes didn't have any signs of food splatters or other unidentifiable substances.

Harris grinned. "I wasn't. Dumbledore didn't interfere with the food-fight until two Gryffindors brought out these awesome fireworks. The Professors were all running around like headless chickens, subtracting House points everywhere. I'm pretty sure all the hourglasses are only two-thirds of what they were originally now. Professor McGonagall got hit by a huge pot of – "

"Silence."

Although Toushirou wasn't surprised at his arrival, the coldness in his voice did make him blink in surprise. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors shut their mouths at the bitter command. Severus Snape was standing in front, armed with a wand and an intimidating glare. His black robes billowed behind him in a sinister and dramatic manner like the villains in those comic books Kurosaki forced upon him. Once he gained their full attention, he started droning on about his Potions class, about how he only accepted the best (he sent a disdainful look at the Gryffindors when he said this), and that everyone was expected to at least pass the first year.

While he was saying all this, Toushirou was occupied by a very interesting bug crawling across the table. He wondered if it was one of his Potions ingredients. He had never seen it before . . .

"Abercrombie," Snape barked.

Euan Abercrombie jumped and looked at Snape fearfully.

"What would be created if powdered root of asphodel was added to an infusion of wormwood?"

Abercrombie fumbled for an answer while his fellow classmates looked on in sympathy. Snape snorted and pointed at another Gryffindor. "Where does one find a Bezoar?"

She blinked and shook her head. "I don't – "

"Have any of you read your textbooks?" the Professor asked scathingly.

A few students raised their hands hesitantly.

"At least you're not all a lost cause." While instructing them to take notes, he tapped his wand at the board and lines of tiny white scripts magically wrote themselves out.

"Bit of a git, isn't he?" Harris muttered.

Toushirou shushed him – but he agreed.

The sounds of quills scratching on parchment and the occasional rustle of fabric filled the room for some time. Snape walked around the room, looking at each paper fleetingly to check their notes. A total of forty points were taken away from Gryffindor for not using their time wisely and twenty from Ravenclaw for missing a line on the board. The Captain disapproved, but he didn't show it. He wasn't the Professor, and it was best if he didn't draw attention to himself any more than he knew he will in the future.

Half the period passed before Snape erased everything on the blackboard and wrote instructions for the cure of boils. _Boils_ – Toushirou didn't even want to know how this was useful. Snape told them to follow the steps _carefully_ and finish before the end of class.

Toushirou crushed the snake fangs into fine power faster than Harris – but that was probably attributed to his Captain-level strength. After adding it to his cauldron (wasn't that in his trunk?) and heating it up for ten seconds, he waved his wand and left it to brew. He used that time to help Harris with this snake fangs (it looked more like crumbs than powder) and then talked to him about the pros and cons of raising an illegal dragon.

"But then we'd get lots of free dragon skin," Harris argued.

_**Touch one scale and you're dead,**_ his Zanpakutou growled at Harris. The wizard didn't hear this, of course. Toushirou mentally shushed him.

"You'd have to kill it first," the white-haired boy pointed out. "And I am _not_ killing a dragon."

_**Damn right you're not,**_ Hyourinmaru murmured darkly.

"Dragon blood? Headmaster Dumbledore discovered twelve uses for it, and we'd only need to prick the dragon. Nothing life threatening."

_**For me, yes. For you, no.**_

"Do you know how hard dragon skin is?" Toushirou knew this from experience. "And why are we talking about this? There is a reason why raising a dragon is illegal."

_**And yet you're harbouring an ice dragon inside your soul.**_

_Hush, stupid dragon. I'm on your side._

Harris shrugged. "It's fun."

His forty-five minutes were up, so he added the horned slugs to the cauldron before taking it out of the fire. Next, he added two porcupine quills, stirred it clockwise five times, and waved his wand. In the end, it didn't look too bad for his first potion. He was one of the first people to complete it, and it was the exact colour of pink illustrated in the book.

"Mine's too red," Harris grumbled in frustration.

The potion was indeed red, but according to the book, it would still be effective against boils. "It's only a shade off. I think you left it in the fire too long. As long as it's red, it'll still be effective."

"But it's not pink."

"You'll pass." He turned back to his own cauldron just as Snape passed their table. The Professor took one look at their potions and carried on to the pair of Gryffindors beside them. He stared at theirs much longer before criticizing their work.

"Mr. Anderson, how much snake fangs did you put in?"

Anderson gulped. "Five measures, I think . . ."

"And how much should you have put in?"

Anderson looked at the board with fearful eyes. ". . . Four."

Snape waved his wand and made the orange potion disappear. Next, he turned to the other boy and pointed out that he missed step five, resulting in a portentously bubbling turquoise potion that looked just about ready to explode. He then took away ten points from each person before moving on.

"He didn't have to do that," Harris mumbled darkly.

Toushirou didn't answer but his frown spoke volumes.

* * *

Flying lessons took place outside in the Training Grounds – something Toushirou was very grateful for. Even better: they were learning how to _fly._ He didn't need to learn how to fly (he was willing bet ten Galleons that he knew more about flying than any of them will ever know), but flying was flying. It had been a while since he practiced with his Bankai, so this was a great finish to his day.

Now, if only they weren't using brooms . . .

Most of them looked nervous, excited or indifferent (but actually squealing inside). Some were ogling the used school brooms lined up in rows on the ground. Personally, he didn't like the brooms. It _had_ to be uncomfortable for the boys riding on it. Wings were so much better.

Madam Hooch, the Flying instructor, came forward from the direction of the castle and called out to the waiting students, "Settle down – Mr. Garson, please refrain from touching the brooms." She stood in front of the two rows and placed her hands on her hips.

And so the lesson started.

She instructed them to stand on the left side of their brooms with their rights hands over it. Once everyone was in the right position, she told them to say "UP!" to summon the brooms to their hands. Toushirou didn't really get what the point of this was (couldn't they just pick it up?) but he complied.

"Up," he commanded. The broom shot into his hand faster than Matsumoto could run from her paperwork. Even while he was eyeing the broom in distaste, he knew he was one of the only few who managed it on the first try. After some prompting from Hooch, the rest of the class managed to summon their brooms.

Next, they were to ride their brooms and hover slightly in the air. Sighing at the utter uselessness of the lesson (when were they going to actually fly?), Toushirou put the broom between his legs (which was actually less uncomfortable than he expected) and kicked up. Decades of flying experience allowed him to instinctively control the broom and do what the instructor said.

The rest of the period went by with Toushirou being bored out of his mind. Unlike him, however, the others were happy at finally being able to ride a _real_ broom. The only mildly amusing thing that happened was when Vivian Chance of Ravenclaw fell off her broom (she was only two feet off the ground).

During all of this, Toushirou was hovering in the air, absently contemplating the well-being of his Division from Matsumoto.

* * *

"Peeves swooped down and hurled the water balloon at his head!" Harris laughed. "He looked like a drowned puppy."

"Good to know," Toushirou murmured, taking a bite of fish from his plate. Although he looked relaxed, his senses were actually on high-alert to the point of paranoia. He didn't know why, but his gut was telling him that something was about to happen. Something _bad. _Something that probably has to do with Aizen.

"And Amanda Dayley was right beside him, so when her uniform got wet, she started screaming about her ruined clothes and make-up – not that she looked good in it, anyway."

"Mmhmm."

Harris looked at him curiously. "Are you okay? You haven't spoken much ever since we got here."

He shrugged and stared at the remnants of his fish. He wasn't hungry anymore.

"That doesn't answer my question."

He heaved a sigh and said, "I'm fine." He hesitated, and then added, "I just have a feeling something is about to go wrong."

"I have feelings like that too." He shoved a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Turns out it was just my stomach and my brain having a disagreement."

Toushirou was about to retort when a strong wave of spiritual pressure washed over him. Instantly, his head snapped up and stared at the direction of the doors with furious eyes. _Not here!_ He stood up and quickly ran out of the room. He ignored Harris's shouts – which were lost over the din of a thousand teenagers. As soon as the Grand Hall was out of sight, he Flash Stepped as fast as he could to Ravenclaw Tower and waited impatiently for the expected riddle.

_With no wings, I fly.  
With no eyes, I see.  
With no arms, I climb.  
More frightening than any beast,  
Stronger than any foe.  
I am cunning,  
Ruthless and tall.  
In the end, I rule all.  
What be I?_

Toushirou actually had to stop and think about for a minute. _Argh, I don't have time for this!_ "Imagination," he snapped. The door opened. He passed the snoring fifteen-year-old sprawled on one of the armchairs and burst into his room. Swiftly striding to his trunk, he opened it and practically shoved his spiritual energy at the tiny round depression. Once the secret compartment was released, he gripped Hyourinmaru's hilt with crushing strength and yanked it out of its place. He really needed to find a way to keep the Zanpakutou with him at all times.

Toushirou muttered profanities under his breath while climbing onto the windowsill. The cool breeze beneath him scattered as he free-fell down to the ground. His feet landed nimbly on the ground and stepped into a series of rapid Flash Steps heading into the Forbidden Forest. As soon as the towering trees came into view, he unsheathed his blade and disappeared into the curtain of autumn branches.

He ran through the shadows, trusting his senses to lead him to the Hollows. However, the Hollows' spiritual pressure was mingled with another familiar signature. It felt like a wizard . . . He was sure he had encountered this signature before . . .

His eyes widened. "Shit."

Fred and George Weasley.

What the hell were they doing in the Forbidden Forest at this time of night? They should be back inside! Toushirou pushed his questions into the back of his mind and sped up his pace, being careful not to trip over (or, in some cases, bash his head in) the humongous tree roots. Eventually, he came upon a large, moonlit glade that was solely occupied by two giant Hollows and one set of red-haired identical twins.

Said identical twins didn't seem to be moving – which was understandable, since both were encased in a white, gooey substance to a particularly thick and gnarly tree.

"Bleeding hell," Fred hissed, trying to wiggle from his wooden trunk. "George, do you have your wand with you?"

"Even if I did, what's the point?" he grumbled. "I can't move my bloody arms!" He eyed the Hollows warily.

Toushirou knew he needed to erase the boys' memories – no living soul could know about the existence of Hollows (except for Kurosaki and his gang and the Queen . . . Okay, a lot of people know about their existence, but probably for a good reason!). He concealed his spiritual pressure as best as he could (which was pretty damn well) and went around the clearing until he was right behind the twins' tree. Shimmying up the trunk, he crawled onto a branch approximately two feet above their heads while keeping the Hollows in his line of vision. The Hollows didn't seem to be in a hurry to devour the twins' souls – in fact, they seemed to be arguing about something. Toushirou reached into his pocket and took out a Kikanshinki. He hooked his knees around the branch and let himself hang upside down in front of the two.

"Crickey!" they yelped. The Hollows started.

Toushirou wordlessly held the Kikanshinki at eye-level and pressed the button. A duck's head accompanied by a cloud of smoke shot from the little device, knocking out the wizards.

_That's taken care of . . . _He dropped from his perch and faced the two Hollows.

"Grrr . . ." The Hollows jumped at him simultaneously, their knife-like claws hooked and ready for slaughtering.

The Captain unsheathed Hyourinmaru, but before he could even move from his position, the Hollows yelled in pain and twisted around. Two large arrows had rooted themselves on their large backs. Surprised, Toushirou leaned sideways and saw a muscular and white-blond centaur wielding a bow at ready. His startlingly blue eyes and bold expression stared at the two Hollows with determination.

The centaur nodded at him. "I cannot slay these fallen souls without a spiritual weapon. Reaper, please finish them off."

Toushirou automatically raised his Zanpakutou and Flash Stepped to the centaur's side. He didn't question his motives – he had an ally in this fight (even though it was very much unneeded) and an opportunity to strike a deal concerning security. With two quick slashes, the Hollows' masks split into two, along with the rest of their bodies.

Although he had now taken out the threat, Toushirou was still frowning. _These Hollows . . . They can't possibly be powerful enough to emit the spiritual pressure I felt a while ago. What I felt was at least Adjuchas-level – possibly an Arrancar. _He searched the surrounding area for any more spiritual pressures and got nothing. He marched in front of the two Weasleys and examined the sticky goo, all the while keeping his guard up. "Thank you, centaur, for your aid."

Experimentally, he prodded the substance with the tip of his Zanpakutou. It felt solid. _Maybe I can melt it off._ He held out a hand and whispered, "_Hadou #31: Shakkahou_." A red ball of energy formed in the palm of his hand. He held it near the substance and watched as the white goo melted at a rapid pace.

"This is the first time I have seen fallen souls in the Forest," the centaur commented. "I assume your presence here has something to do with it?"

"Possibly," he shrugged. The goo was half-melted now.

The centaur looked up at the starry sky. "Just a moon ago, I had foreseen dark days looming over the horizon. Even if you hadn't arrived, these souls would still have come with harmful intent."

Toushirou looked at him curiously.

"You will need every help you can get in the coming months," he murmured. "Especially those from unexpected sources."

"What are you talking about?"

"The future is bleak, unless the right steps are taken and the right breakthroughs are discovered." The centaur focused on him again. "I am Firenze."

"I'm Toushirou Hitsugaya." The white substance dripped onto the ground and freed its prisoners. The Captain caught the two and laid them gently on the ground.

"More fallen souls will be coming," Firenze said. "I cannot let them hurt the students. Toushirou Hitsugaya, I will lend you my aid. I may not be able to kill these monsters without repercussions, but I can slow them down until you come to finish them off."

"That would be of great help." Toushirou hoisted Fred Weasley onto his right shoulder and ignored the urge to correct the centaur. "Thank you."

Without prompting, Firenze lugged George Weasley onto his back. The centaur and the Shinigami ran together through the trees, the latter still alert for any Arrancars. The twins on their backs were still mercifully unconscious. If they weren't, they would probably be throwing up their insides right now – what with the way they were positioned and the way Fred Weasley's feet were dragging on the ground and the speed they were going . . .

At the edge of the Forest, Firenze stopped and let the white-haired boy sling George Weasley onto his other shoulder (_This is very uncomfortable,_ Toushirou thought).

"I will leave you here," he said quietly. He galloped into the Forest without waiting for a reply.

The moon was already high in the sky, so Toushirou crossed the grass as fast as he could without Flash Stepping. Fred Weasley's shoes were already frayed from all the dragging they suffered –

_Whoosh!_

Toushirou dropped to the ground and threw the twins haphazardly to the side. Just in time too. A silver knife quivered in front of him, hilt up and at just the right angle to have hit the nape of his neck if he had been standing. He rolled to the side and pushed a Weasley (he wasn't sure which) away, just as another blade stuck itself mere centimetres from his skin.

The Shingami stood up and used Hyourinmaru to deflect another knife coming from the Forbidden Forest. Anticipating another knife attack, he hissed, "_Bakudou #73: Tozanshou!_" A blue, inverted pyramid formed around them. Two more knives hurled themselves from the forest and were effortlessly deflected by the blue barrier. Somewhere behind him, Fred Weasley (or was it George?) muttered a very strange sentence about flying weasels.

A giggle sounded from the bare trees. "Aw, that's not fair!"

"Show yourself!" he growled lowly, his baritone echoing through the silent air.

"Get out of that little triangle and maybe I will." A scarlet blur flashed briefly behind the branches before disappearing. Half a second later, another knife embedded itself on the grass.

Toushirou swore mentally. If he left the barrier, he might get hit by the knives – which seemed to be thrown with deadly accuracy. If he didn't, the Arrancar might just use brute strength to break the barrier – or keep throwing knives to trap them there until more students go outside the next day and discover three students surrounded by knives behind a blue, translucent pyramid.

_**I suggest you take your chances outside the barrier,**_ Hyourinmaru advised. _**At least both of you could fight on even ground then.**_

_. . . Alright._ Toushirou reluctantly stepped outside of the Kidou barrier and tensed, every single one of his senses alert for any knives.

"Thank you," the female voice chirped. A slender, redheaded Arrancar emerged from the shadows of the trees. She was smirking and her green eyes held a bizarre mix of playfulness and cruelty – with a hint of boredom. "I'm Reina Plexidax. Nice to meet you, Captain of the Tenth Division."

"I can't say the same about you."

"Cliché comeback," she yawned. Her left hand fingered her belt of knives hanging from her waist while her right hand twitched to the short Zanpakutou strapped to her back in a similar manner to Hyourinmaru. "Anyway, how 'bout we start the customary Shinigami-versus-Arrancar fight, hm? I heard it's all the rage in Karakura Town." She didn't wait for his retort; she ran at him with a knife in one hand and the Zanpakutou in the other.

Toushirou barely had enough time to parry the Zanpakutou. The sheer strength of the attack pushed him backwards and almost toppled him to the grass. The knife attempted to stab him on the side, but he deflected it with a whispered "_Seki._" Barely a second after that, he attempted to disarm her knife hand by slicing at the vein in her wrist – but she was fast. Reina jumped away from him and stared at the cut sleeve. "You're better than I thought."

_So are you._

"I'm the fastest of all the Arrancar, you know. Even though Zommari kept saying his Sonído is better than everyone else's, he still can't beat me when we're racing. There was that one time – "Reina lunged at the Captain again, but a wave of ice and a yelled "Reign over the frosted heavens!" forced her to Sonído a good fifteen yards away. "Not nice, little Shinigami. You should be listening to me when I'm talking, not watching out for people who want to gut you."

"You're too talkative," he muttered, a tad bit irritated at the size-related comment. He sent another one of his dragons at her, but she simply evaded the dragon and let it freeze the skeleton forest behind her. _Damn, she's fast . . ._

She giggled again. "Shikai! I haven't even released my Zanpakutou yet. Won't you keep this a fair fight?"

"Bankai."

"Not fair!" she yelled as she ran away from the winged Captain. "That is totally cheating!"

He sent an ice dragon at the Arrancar. He really wasn't one for resorting to childish actions and clichéd comebacks, but something about this woman just seemed to bring his inner childishness out (which he thought died when _he _left). Hell, he didn't even believe in that phrase! At least, he didn't think he did . . .

He was brought out of his musings by a powerful surge of fire coming from Reina. He folded his wings in front of him – _just in time_ – and felt tongues of blazing fire licking his ice. He powered his ice wings with more power.

Another round of laughter echoed from the distance. "Like my attack, tiny Captain?"

He was about to open his wings when more fire came to his way. His ice wasn't finished recovering, so instead of shielding himself he flew up and let the attack drop into the forest below. A stray fireball missed him by several feet, but he still felt the intense heat and _(strange . . .)_ power fused into the ball.

And then realization hit him.

_The forest!_

He summoned an ice dragon and commanded it to put out the fireballs threatening to light the forest. Needless to say, a sentient being was much faster than mindless fireballs fuelled by spiritual pressure. The dragon quickly caught up with the fire and opened its great jaws. The fire was swallowed deep into its sub-zero belly and was extinguished when the dragon burst into tiny droplets of water.

"Close call, huh?" Toushirou turned and saw Reina sheathing her Zanpakutou. "I'm getting bored. You're boring, Captain. You remind me of my partner – who is dead now, by the way. Pissed off Ichimaru and got himself tortured by magic for a couple of hours and skewered right after. Shame, he was practically Espada-level." She caught the confused look he was trying to hide. "_Oh, you have got to be kidding me!_ You, the genius Captain, not knowing what an Espada is? _That is just rich!_" She smirked at his annoyed scowl. "Here's a little something for that big brain of yours: the Espada are the ten most powerful Arrancars in Lord Aizen's army. They make the normal Arrancars look like small fries!" She pointed at herself. "You're looking at an unofficial Espada. Lord Aizen's secret agent." She giggled again. "Oops. Looks like I'm not a secret anymore. I was never good at keeping secrets anyway – that was my partner's job." She sent a lazy knife at the Shinigami and watched with amusement when he batted it away. "You're not much of a threat, Captain. Really, in the grand scheme of things, you're not. That said, I'm going to run away now." She waved a little wave and before he could attack again, vanished in an impressive Sonído.

"Wait!" He tried to sensed her spiritual pressure, but could feel nothing other than the two lilting boys inside his pyramid. He yelled out in fury and stomped his foot childishly. He grew even more annoyed when he realized what he did. _Damn, damn, damn! How could she be so fast! Not even Yoruichi Shihouin is that fast!_

_**Ranting will do you no good,**_ said Hyourinmaru. _**The twins should be waking up soon.**_

_. . . You're right. You're always right . . . _He sealed his Bankai and let himself plummet to the ground, all the while ignoring the smugness rolling off of the dragon – in _waves._ He landed in front of the inverted pyramid steadily and let the Kidou spell die away. He picked up George (or Fred) Weasley by his collar and slung him over his shoulder. He did the same with Fred (or George).

Off to the Hospital wing.

Toushirou took about two steps before he noticed the small piece of paper lying on the ground. He bent over, picked it up, and read the following words:

_Get ready, little Shinigami. Things are about to get interesting._

* * *

**OMAKE**

* * *

Matsumoto stared at the paperwork.

The paperwork stared back.

"I hate you," she said.

The paperwork hated her too.

"What is your purpose in this office?"

The paperwork asked the same question.

"Takezoe!" she yelled. The Seventh-Seat appeared before her. "The paperwork is being mean to me! Get rid of it!"

Poor Takezoe glanced at the pile of documents and wordlessly did as she said. Most of the time, the Division preferred their Lieutenant sober – but that was before their Captain left for his long-term mission. Nowadays, they preferred their Lieutenant dead drunk to the world.

At least they didn't have to deal with all the mad schemes she cooked up.

Speaking of which, the plants were _still_ pink and polka-dotted. Yachiru Kusajishi was having a field day. No one knew how Matsumoto did it.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The interesting parts are going to happen in the next chapter.**

**This chapter is dedicated to SimplyFalling211. I hope it cheered you up! (Although I have no idea how it would do that; it's not exactly humour-centred.)**

**I'm so sorry for the late update. I'm actually kind of busy in real life and I was struck with a case of writer's block. I simply disliked having to write those class scenes; it was so boring! Also, if you guys would like to do me a favour, please vote on the poll in my profile. I need to narrow down my priorities.**

**Another thing: I don't really get how the classes work in Hogwarts. I Googled as much as I could, but I simply do not get it. Like, does each class have students from two Houses? What does double [insert subject here] mean? I made the following assumptions:  
-Yes, each class does have students from two Houses (inferred from the fact that Gryffindors had Slytherins in Potions).  
-Double [insert subject here] means that the class is twice as long - meaning two hours. I don't know how it works in England (or Scotland), but here, each class is one hour and fifteen minutes long. I just rounded it down for this story to make it simpler.**

**Oh! For those of you wondering what the hell the stupid question in the last chapter was for, it was for you to decide which last name Reina Plexidax was going to have. X and Z are the prominent letters in the two last names I had (I used a random evil name generator~ Or something like that). X for Plexidax and Z for Infrakreuz. Weird names, I know, but she's an Arrancar, so . . .**

**Gah! Another long author's note! I'm sorry! Or maybe I should stop apologizing and accept it as a norm . . . Yeah, I'll do that . . .**


	5. Silver Knife and Midnight Rendezvous

**disclaimer: **not mine.

Lots of thanks to **SimplyFalling211** and **The Awesome God Apollo** for editing this :)

* * *

**Chapter 5  
Silver Knife and Midnight Rendezvous**

* * *

Three weeks later and Toushirou was now, for all intents and purposes, a second year.

That meant he was advancing through his studies at the same pace during his Academy days. Which was good. Very Good. If he slowed down, he probably wouldn't be able to finish all seven school years on time. Yamamoto would send him back for another year (or to what the mortals called 'summer school', at the very least), Kurotsuchi would laugh at him, and Matsumoto would hold it over his head for the rest of his life.

Dumbledore had given him special permission to skip a year (or two... or however many he needed to...) if the professors deemed it appropriate. It wasn't hard to convince McGonagall, Snape and Hagrid to do so. They knew his true intentions at Hogwarts, and they didn't have any major objections. The unaware professors had been more difficult to convince, but once Toushirou had done his finals to complete his first year under their supervision, they let it go without complaint.

Screw Umbridge, he was studying Defence Against the Dark Arts on his own. He liked to think he had a good judge of character (except for Aizen – but he fooled everyone, so that didn't really count), and Umbridge did not fail to give him a rather off-putting impression.

When she had heard of his higher-than-average intelligence, the first thing she did was test him. She picked on him every class, asking questions that Toushirou knew for a fact were not in the textbook. After that, she tried suppressing his education in not-so-subtle ways. Giving him bad 'advice' on what to do whenever a certain 'situation' came up ("If you ever get bitten a werewolf - which is highly improbable, as the Ministry is extremely thorough in cataloging loose and dangerous werewolves - give yourself up to the Ministry, they will take care of you), intentionally giving him a lower mark on his essays ("Dear, you forgot to explain how the Ministry contributed to the invention of this spell…), giving him false pages to read for homework ("I said page fifty, not sixty…") - the list went on…

Luckily, Toushirou knew enough to know when he was being tricked. The rest of the class knew it too, and sent him looks of sympathy whenever Umbridge went to his desk for a 'lecture' about 'proper' wizard etiquette. ("Really, just because you are a foreigner in this country, does not mean that your intolerable behaviour will be excused.")

See, she didn't like him. She thought his hair and eyes were abnormal – which was just hypocritical of her. With a face that was reminiscent of a swollen bullfrog's, how could she discriminate against those who looked at least semi-normal?

There was no way he was doing whatever final exam Umbridge had planned for the first years – it was probably going to be purely theory based, and he had already memorized _Defensive Magical Theory, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection,_ and the other books he had bought from Diagon Alley. He had always been good at teaching himself, so he mastered a lot of spells during his late-night private sessions in the Forbidden Forest. He knew he could easily pass Defence Against the Dark Arts if he wanted to.

Besides, Umbridge would probably fail him just for the hell of it. She was not above unfair disciplinary practices. She once gave him detention for muttering under his breath (granted, the things he was muttering under his breath were not exactly innocent). Needless to say, he did not attend his detention. He had more important things to do, after all. Like plotting against her reign of terror.

And as if that wasn't bad enough, Umbridge was just recently appointed High Inquisitor. Basically, she invaded the classrooms, inspecting each class, harassing the teachers, looking for excuses to sack the actual professors. Rumours abounded about the inspections. Whispers of what happened during Divination between her and Professor Trelawney carried through the halls. Toushirou did not care for these rumours, but he was troubled by Umbridge's actions. If she managed to get a professor fired, they might bring in another professor on the recommendation of the Ministry of Magic. Frankly, they did not need any more intervention from the Ministry. One Umbridge was enough.

That night, after dinner, Toushirou was wandering the school, looking for a certain elusive room that, if the elves were to be believed, could provide anything he needed. The Come-and-Go Room, they called it. The moonlit halls provided enough light to navigate through dark hallways. He stretched his senses, looking for a room that had an unusual amount of spiritual pressure (which was hard, considering that this was a magical school). His icy spiritual pressure gently brushed the ancient stone walls, the floors, the ceiling, leaving behind a lingering, icy imprint. He passed by Umbridge's room… and stopped.

If he hadn't been concentrating so hard, he might have missed it.

A dark spiritual pressure. Small, weak - almost unnoticeable to his senses - but still radiating malicious energy. And it was coming from Umbridge's room. _Of course_ it would be coming from Umbridge's room.

Suspicious more than curious, he stepped closer to the door and focused his senses on the inside of the room. He recognized Harry Potter's spiritual pressure (unsteady, tumultuous and ill at ease), along with Umbridge's, not to mention the dark spiritual pressure…

"_Bakudou #26: Kyokkou_," he murmured. The light around him bent to hide his small form. Straightening, he willed his spirit particles to loosen, and passed through the wall.

What awaited him on the other side inflamed his loathing of Umbridge.

Inside the pink-and-cat-infested room, Harry Potter wrote on a piece of paper with a quill that was emitting the dark spiritual pressure. Looking closely, the ink was blood red, and the back of Potter's hand had several scratches on it… _I must not tell lies_.

A Blood Quill.

As Toushirou continued to watch with growing fury, the scratches bled more, and the quill produced more blood ink. More lines appeared on the parchment. Stubborn, Potter's face was carefully controlled to show no pain, but his spiritual pressure and shaking hands indicated otherwise. Dolores Umbridge sat on her desk with a smug, satisfied smile on her toad-like face. Her bulging eyes were mocking and triumphant.

When Potter let out a quiet, barely audible hiss, Toushirou had had enough and shot a weak Hadou spell at the Blood Quill. It exploded. Potter jumped and Umbridge's eyes narrowed.

"Five points from Gryffindor and another week of detention for you, Mr. Potter. Start over." With a flick of her wand, the bloody parchment on Potter's desk was cleansed. Another Blood Quill flew from Umbridge's desk and replaced the old one.

Toushirou snarled in his mind, "_Hadou #1: Shou!_"

The Blood Quill wrenched itself out of Potter's hand and flew out the window. Before Umbridge could replace it with another one, he pointed his finger at the woman's desk and cast a silent Byakurai, incinerating the desk and everything inside. All that was left were black ashes, bits of singed pink cloth, and a very surprised Umbridge.

Harry Potter's eyes were wide in wonder and astonishment (and glee).

"Potter," Umbridge said lowly. Toushirou saw a flash of something shady, something evil in her eyes.

"It wasn't me," Potter protested.

"Twenty points from - " Toushirou whipped out his wand and shot a silencing charm at Umbridge. She choked on her words, her already bulging eyes popping out even more. He then produced a Kikanshinki and, still soundless and invisible, stepped in front of Umbridge and released the puff of smoke. Her head rolled back and she slept, still on her chair.

Harry Potter, having no idea what was going on, sat on his chair and stared at the suddenly unconscious professor.

Toushirou had fully intended to also erase Potter's memories, but, when he tried to use the Kikanshinki on Potter, all it released was a pitiful puff of powder.

Hmm… There was a possibility that he would recount everything that happened here to his friends… But he was sure Potter could keep a secret if needed. So Toushirou snatched an abandoned normal quill from one of the surrounding desks and wrote on the parchment: _Do not tell anyone. _He couldn't risk him finding out his identity through his voice, after all.

Potter, watching the quill move on its own, nodded slowly. "O - Okay."

_Now get out. Umbridge will not remember any of this._

Potter nodded again. He stood up and exited the room, moving stiffly as if hypnotised by the entire ordeal. Toushirou watched him go. As soon as the wizard was out of sight, he turned his eyes on the pink-clad professor.

* * *

The next day, Toushirou kept a careful eye on Umbridge during Defence Against the Dark Arts. She showed no signs of remembering any of last night's events, acting like her old and contemptible self. A new desk, identical to the last one, occupied the old desk's space. There was a suspicious lack of ornamental plates on the walls (not that he was complaining; those were hideous). He wondered what Umbridge thought happened to the old desk.

"Wands away, class," Umbridge said sweetly. "Turn to page twenty-six and start on chapter two…"

"Oh, the horror," Harris muttered.

"What was that, Mr. Harris?" Umbridge said sharply.

"I like the author," he said loudly.

Umbridge smiled at Harris - a terrifying thing, her smile. "Of course, dear."

* * *

"Ow," he muttered to himself, holding onto a shallow scratch, courtesy of the willow tree he jumped onto. No, the tree was not alive (he thought), but its branches were as sharp as hell.

The tall, black Menos in front of him drew back its head. Firenze shot arrows at its bone mask. It was a strangely funny sight, the Menos with arrows protruding out of its mask…

Toushirou was not thinking straight.

He sighed and shook his head, banishing ideas that could only result from lack of sleep. He thought of the soft, warm bed waiting for him inside the Ravenclaw Tower. Between schoolwork and invading Hollows, the deep and undisturbed sleep he so craved was few and far between, even with Firenze's assistance. It didn't help that Umbridge, since being appointed as the High Inquisitor, was more annoying than ever, dumping huge loads of homework on her classes, handing out detentions for everything - and those Slytherin servants of hers were not helping. If her goal was to be the most hated person in Hogwarts, then she was succeeding - spectacularly. Trying to take his mind off of the frog-woman, he pointed his index finger at the Menos and said, "_Bakudou #61: Rikujoukourou_."

Six beams of light slammed into the Menos' torso, holding it in place. Flash stepping up in front of its mask, he drew Hyourinmaru, cut it in half, and let himself float down while the Menos disintegrated into light. He sheathed Hyourinmaru and made his way back to his room.

That was the second Menos in two weeks. He really needed to report to Yamamoto about the Espada (and ask for reinforcements), but the Onmitsukidou agent had yet to be seen. There had been no more sightings of Arrancars, Espada or otherwise. The weak Hollows that ambled through the barriers were easily dispatched by the Shinigami. While these fights were not challenging, they did take up Toushirou's time, time that could be spent on something else useful like studying or researching more about magic in the library. Or plotting against Umbridge.

(He made sure to destroy every set of Blood Quills Umbridge ordered. He had not reported her to Dumbledore. Yet. But he couldn't help but think that there was something strange about Umbridge…)

* * *

The third of October. It was on that day that Toushirou got invited to a secret meeting for a practical study group for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"I know you're really smart," Hermione Granger told him during breakfast, "and I'm sure that you want to learn something else other than what Umbridge 'teaches'." She gave him the time and place for the first meeting. "There's a secret passageway beneath the one-eyed witch statue by the stairs - you know, the one near the DADA classroom? Tap the hump of the statue with your wand and say _Dissendium_. It leads to the cellar of Honeydukes, the sweet shop in Hogsmeade. When you get there, head to the Hog's Head Inn and look for us. And don't tell anyone that might tattle." Granger said goodbye to him and went off to join her friends.

"What was that all about?" Harris asked, yawning and sitting down beside him. He reached for a plate of pancakes.

"Nothing." All Toushirou could think about was how overt Granger's invitation was, despite her claim that this was supposed to be a secret meeting (really, in the middle of breakfast? No prudence at all.). Nevertheless, he was going to this meeting, if only to see if it was worth the risk of getting in trouble. Not that it was illegal or anything, but this was going against Umbridge's back and she would probably make a decree (as the High Inquisitor) to disband this club if she ever discovered it. Then again, joining this club automatically meant that you hated Umbridge. And doing something that went against her back _did_ feel good. Considering how _skillful _Granger was in being surreptitious, this venture had a high chance of being discovered. But Toushirou was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. After all, Granger was a smart girl, and he was sure she would take some precautions. He hoped.

Harris gulped a big slice of his pancake down and said, "Did you do that essay for History of Magic?"

"I'm not in your class anymore."

"Oh. Right." Harris paused. "Anyway, you know about the Soap Blizzard of 1378, right? So you can tell me more about its economic effects…"

He stopped listening. He was sure Harris would look it up himself anyway. He was more concerned about the dragon shifting uneasily inside his head.

_**I feel a disturbance**_, Hyourinmaru rumbled. _**Be on your guard.**_

_Why? What's wrong?_

_**I do not know. It's just… I have a bad feeling. Something is going to happen.**_

"Again," he muttered. He remembered the little note the Arrancar had left for him almost a month ago.

"What?" Harris asked.

"Nothing. Eat your breakfast."

"Yes, sir." Harris wolfed down the rest of his pancakes. It was an amazing (and slightly nauseating) sight. Who knew such a small boy could eat such a tall stack of pancakes so fast?

"Ack!" Harris held his mouth. "Ah bi' mah 'ung!"

"Mail's here," Toushirou muttered, ignoring Harris's remark. On cue, a parliament of owls flew into the room, bearing messages and packages alike. A brown barn owl dropped a small square package in front of Harris, landing on a soft loaf of bread. Toushirou had always thought this method of delivery very unorthodox. And messy. Owls flying into the Great Hall and dropping their loads onto the food? Completely unsanitary.

"Wha? Oh!" Harris tore off the brown paper packaging and grinned. "Cookies from mum! Di' you ge' anyfing?" asked Harris, already stuffing a cookie in his mouth despite the injured tongue.

Before the Shinigami could say no, a noticeably exhausted owl dropped a large brow box with small holes in his lap. It had a small envelope tied to it. The owl hooted weakly, snatched a strip of bacon, and flew off. Curious, Toushirou untied the envelope, turned it over, and recognised the kanji for "ten". Strange. Why would Soul Society send him a package by owl? It must be important, he decided. He opened the envelope and took out the square piece of paper inside. It read:

_Hello, Hitsugaya-kun!_

_I heard about your mission. Thought you might appreciate this._

_Good luck~!_

_Kisuke Urahara_

"Oh no," Toushirou muttered.

_**Oh no**_, Hyourinmaru agreed. _**This cannot be good. Nothing from Urahara is ever good. You better open that somewhere private.**_

Toushirou quietly stood up and, still carrying the box, exited the Great Hall, paying no attention to Harris's yells. He speed-walked through the almost-empty halls, heading straight for the Ravenclaw Tower. The box in his hands shifted on its own. He was almost dreading what was inside.

He reached the tower, knocked on the door, and waited for the riddle.

_Where may you find roads without carts, forests without trees, cities without houses?_

"A map."

The door swung open.

He quickly passed the shelves of books, the marble walls, the blue and bronze drapes, and closed the door behind the privacy of his dorm. No one was there. He set the box down on his bed and was just about to rip the paper off -

"Hey! You're here!"

The little Captain cursed in Japanese. He shoved the box under his bed and glanced at Harris irritatingly. "Shouldn't you be eating?"

"I was done," Harris shrugged from his position near the door. "And I was going to get my stuff. Left it in here again." His eyes drifted over to his bed. "Where's the box? Didn't you bring it with you? Did you open it yet?"

"None of your business," he replied flatly.

Harris raised his hands. "Just asking. Class starts in ten minutes. You better get going. You have Transfiguration?"

"Yes."

"Cool. I'll walk with you."

Harris gathered his textbooks and quills and followed the white-haired boy out the door. They made small talk (rather, Harris talked while the other half-listened and nodded accordingly) as they waded through the river of students hurrying to their first class. Students, from first years to seventh years, chattered loudly and freely. Toushirou, however, felt uneasy, even as Harris walked ahead of him and pointed at the statue of an insane one-eared witch. That sensation, the same one before the Espada showed up a month ago, was plaguing him again. He cautiously sent out his senses, looking for the telltale spiritual pressure of an Espada, an Arrancar, or a Hollow. He found nothing, only the gentle, protective buzz of the magical walls that made up the entirety of Hogwarts. But no, wait, something was wrong, he could feel it. A small, almost undetectable aura, dark and twisted in nature -

He ducked.

Felt the cool air suddenly sharpen.

And heard a sickening squelch.

He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't notice the screaming students around him, only focused on the distinct cruel laughter and familiar spiritual pressure of Reina the Espada.

_Get ready, little Shinigami. Things are about to get interesting._

"All students, return to your common rooms!" McGonagall's voice, full of authority, pierced the panicked clamour. "Prefects…"

Toushirou did not hear all of that. Did not see the students running around, trying to get to the safety of their common rooms. All he saw was the motionless corpse of Ethan Harris, a familiar silver knife fixed right in the middle of his throat, unseeing brown eyes forever shocked. Blood seeped from the wound and pooled around the body, staining the Ravenclaw's loose robes. More professors arrived at the scene. Dimly, he felt Dumbledore's spiritual pressure nearby, felt the Headmaster slip something to his hand.

"Go to your common room," Dumbledore murmured gently.

Shaking himself out of his daze, he followed the other Ravenclaws and did as Dumbledore said. The short trip was filled with nervous whimpers, sobbing cries, and panicked voices. The other first years all huddled together, terrified of the fate that had befallen one of their own.

"Everything is going to be fine," Anthony Goldstein, the Prefect, comforted a crying girl.

"B - But Ethan…"

"I…" he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"Th - There was a - a knife, a - and it j - just appeared out of n - nowhere…"

"Um…"

"Is - Is it You-Know-Who?" the girl asked, voice rising. "I - It is! This is a warning! Not even half-bloods are safe from him… He's really back… You-Know-Who is back…" She broke down crying.

The Ravenclaws were silent.

"The professors will find out who did it," Anthony Goldstein said forcefully. "And the Headmaster will protect us, pure-blood or not. You-Know-Who doesn't stand a chance…"

_But it's not Voldemort_, Toushirou thought. _It's an Espada, and Dumbledore won't stand a chance against her…_

The group ascended the tight spiral staircase and arrived at the doors. The Prefect knocked, answered the riddle, and ushered the children in. Padma Patil, the other fifth year Ravenclaw Prefect, was already there, along with a large group of younger Ravenclaws. They all looked scared and confused.

Padma Patil started talking, but Toushirou didn't wait to listen. He slipped away to his dorm and made a beeline straight for his trunk. He needed his Zanpakutou. He needed to kill the Espada before she killed more students. He could chastise himself for his carelessness later, when the threat was gone. No time for grieving or mourning either. Reina was fast and stealthy. There was a high probability that she was gone by now, but he still had to make sure that there were no Hollows in the vicinity - especially ones that could hide their spiritual pressure.

(And it wasn't like he was particularly close to Harris; he knew he was going to leave in one year, and being close friends with someone would just make it harder to leave. Still, that didn't stop the small pang of regret and anger he felt when he stared down at Harris's unmoving body. The child didn't deserve that, didn't deserve getting pulled into his fight, his world.)

Kneeling, he opened the trunk with one hand and remembered the piece of paper Dumbledore slipped into his hand. He smoothed out the crumpled sheet and read the message:

_My office at midnight.  
Password is Fizzing Whizbee.  
Do not do anything yet._

Toushirou hesitated. His teal eyes flicked over to the secret compartment of his trunk, then to the note. He sighed. Hollow hunting was going to have to wait.

* * *

Classes were cancelled that day. Supper was delivered to their common rooms by the house elves. No one was allowed to roam the halls. The Prefects and the Head Boy and Head Girl were all called by Professor McGonagall to help patrol the hallways.

Inside the Ravenclaw common room, beneath the starry ceiling, huddles of students clustered together, seeking comfort and safety in numbers. No one could sleep. Some of the elder students tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, reading textbooks and doing homework, but even they watched over the young ones attentively, stealing glances from their books every now and then.

Toushirou observed them all from his spot in the corner, innocently flipping through the pages of a Potions textbook and writing an essay. It was ten pm. Two hours until he had to leave. He kept his senses spread out, his spiritual pressure a cool, vigilant sensation that could detect any threat, Hollow or otherwise, coming in kilometres away. The nippy aura of his power was lost in the perpetually airy atmosphere of the common room. He pointedly divided his attention between his homework and his spiritual pressure, pointedly avoided thinking about the boy with the silver knife wedged in his throat.

The two hours passed by leisurely. One by one, the students fell asleep, not bothering to return to their beds. Several of the sixth and seventh years went up and retrieved pillows and blankets for those already asleep. A pair of twins sharing an armchair fell asleep together, a large book on their laps. Two boys slumbered on the floor, a set of Wizard's Chess between them. A group of third years playing Exploding Snap shared a large blanket. Looking at all the students in this room and thinking of three other similar groups in the castle, Toushirou knew he couldn't let them get hurt again. They had nothing to do with Aizen, Arrancars, or any of Soul Society's problems. He felt a fresh surge of hate for Aizen for dragging these children into the war.

The clock struck midnight, and the short Shinigami rose from his position. He cast _Bakudou #26: Kyokkou_ on himself, opened a window, and jumped out. He flash stepped his way around the castle, still alert. He found the window to the Headmaster's office and phased through the glass.

Dumbledore was already there, sitting behind a large messy desk overburdened with paperwork and odd trinkets. The paintings of the past Headmasters were all still awake, whispering amongst themselves. Fawkes the phoenix tilted his head in greeting from his perch. The old wizard smiled when Toushirou arrived and dispelled the Kidou. "I had hoped you would use the door, but I had a feeling that you would not do so."

"Windows are easier," Toushirou said simply.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed it is. Now, I believe we have matters to discuss."

The Captain waited.

"We have informed Mr. Harris's parents of their son's passing. They are understandably distraught. They demanded to know what exactly happened to Mr. Harris, how the silver knife came to be." Dumbledore met Toushirou's eyes. "And we both know that we cannot tell them that. It was one of these Hollow creatures that did it?"

"Yes, a very dangerous Hollow. What did you tell the parents?"

"I told them than an investigation is pending."

"You know," Toushirou said thoughtfully, "by next morning, everyone will be coming up with all sorts of theories, most likely of the ridiculous kind. Some are already coming up with the idea that this was Voldemort's doing, a warning of a sorts that Muggle-borns and half-bloods are not safe from him."

"That could work to our advantage," Dumbledore mused. "We have been having trouble convincing people that Voldemort is indeed back."

He raised an eyebrow. "You are going to lie to them?"

"No. I'm going to let them assume what they want."

Toushirou didn't say anything. He wasn't going to get caught up in _that_ mess. Instead, he said, "I need to tighten security. I need reinforcements. This can't be done on my own." There. He said it. It hurt to bend his pride, but he had been steeling himself for two hours and it was a relief to get it over with.

"Of course," Dumbledore said, his voice suggesting that he had been expecting it. "I believe the agent is supposed to arrive tonight?"

"Yes."

"Then we better not keep him waiting. Off you go, Captain. You must be tired, but I would really appreciate it if you do a quick sweep of the school grounds in case any of these Hollow creatures are still lurking in the shadows. It has been a while since the killing. The perpetrator, whoever it is, must have let down their guard by now if they are still here." He handed the white-haired boy a sheet of paper before he left. "Oh, and don't forget to choose your classes for your third year."

Toushirou sighed at the tone and left through the window. He was too tired to argue with an old man. He flash stepped around the school grounds, lingering by the Forbidden Forest, as he knew it was where Hollows tended to hide. He ran by the hut of the half-giant, Rubeus Hagrid. There were no lights; the gamekeeper must be patrolling the hallways with the other professors. He passed the lake where the giant squid lived and peered into its depths. He wouldn't put it past Aizen to create a water-breathing Arrancar just to make his life harder. Finishing his round and seeing as there seemed to be no signs of Hollows, he made his way back to the common room and tiptoed past the slumbering students. He had no intention of sleeping with them. Unlike them, he actually appreciated his soft bed and was comforted by the fact that Hyourinmaru would wake him up if he was in danger.

The Shinigami climbed onto his bed and waited.

Not long after, the window opened soundlessly and a black-clad Onmitsukidou agent swung himself through.

"Captain Hitsugaya," the main murmured, kneeling on the floor with his head bowed to the higher-ranking Shinigami, "Captain Kurotsuchi asked me to give you this." He handed the Captain a cell phone. "It is impervious to magic and can transmit your reports even through the protective wards of Hogwarts. Would you like me to send any messages for the Captain-Commander in the meanwhile?"

"Yes. Tell him I need reinforcements. I will send him details later."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

The agent left without a sound.

Toushirou examined the phone Kurotsuchi had made. It looked exactly like a standard soul phone. Shrugging, he turned it on and typed up his report. It took a while; texting a report was not an easy task. Finally, he finished, pressed "send", and turned it off. He reached for his trunk and threw in the phone. No need for the others to wonder why he had a phone when Muggle technology clearly didn't work inside the castle.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, he remembered the package from Urahara. He had not opened it yet. He was almost reluctant to get up again, but his curiosity overcame his laziness and forced him to paw under his bed. He felt the box and pulled it out. Ripping apart the brown paper packaging, he opened the box and peered inside.

And cursed Urahara to the depths of hell.

* * *

Back in Karakura Town, inside a shady old sweet shop, a man wearing a striped green-and-white bucket hat chuckled.

* * *

**OMAKE**

* * *

Umbridge woke up to the screeching chirps of birds and the harsh lights of the sun.

She hissed, closing her eyes for a second before lowering her head and let her eyes adjust to the light. She put a hand on her clammy forehead. She did not feel well.

And that was when she noticed her desk. Or rather, the remains of it.

"What happened?" she asked to no one. She remembered Potter sitting down, writing with the Blood Quill, and then…

Her kittens attacked her.

Her sweet, kittens stepped out of their respective ornamental plates and attacked her! Little Betty, a pink-and-white calico, her favourite, breathed fire and destroyed her desk! The horror! Her sweet kittens turned against her!

A small strangled scream escaped from her mouth before she somewhat regained control of herself. She pointed her wand at the plates and shrieked, "_Evanesco!_"

Her entire collection of ornamental plates featuring kittens disappeared.

She breathed heavily, sweat dotting her frog-like face. There was no other noise in the room.

"N - No more," she squeaked shrilly to herself. "No more… Perhaps puppies? Oh, and I need more Blood Quills."

* * *

Hey... I'm back? /shot

I just lost inspiration for a while and only got it back recently, what with all the new things we're learning about Isshin and Masaki and the Quincies...

Sorry, this chapter isn't as long as usual, but it was the best I could do.


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